The Pale Verdict
The glue is drying, and it is pulling the ceramic shards of the mug apart with a slow, gritty resistance that you can feel through the fabric of your shirt pocket. You are sitting in the driver’s seat of your truck, the engine off, the wipers resting against the windshield that has dried into a film of sleet, and you are holding the mug in your left hand while you steady the pen with your...
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