The Distant Machine
October 14, 1952 The engine in the basement of the Orphanage of St. Jude has begun to bleed, and the black oil that seeps from its fractured casing carries the sharp, cloying scent of my father’s cologne, a ghostly perfume that hangs in the damp air like a warning I am too afraid to heed. I have been disassembling the secondary valve for three hours, my fingers stained with grime and a kind of...
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