The Distant Cartograph
The intake form was damp, the ink smeared where Mara’s thumb had pressed against the paper, blurring the date into a gray smear. She signed it anyway, the pen scratching loudly in the sterile silence of St. Jude’s ward, the sound sharp enough to cut the air. Outside, the rain hammered against the high windows, a relentless, gray static that matched the flickering of the fluorescent lights...
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