The Wistful Mountain
The throttle of the delivery truck groaned under Vera Marek’s thumb, the vibration traveling up through the wheel and into the bones of her wrists as she hauled the last crate of methadone supplies toward the clinic’s side entrance. The thaw had turned the gravel path into a sucking mud that held the tires with a tenacious, oily grip, and the willows along the abandoned canal swung their bare...
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