The Pale Tower
Could a man really be drowning in a room that had no water? Giovanni Bellini asked this question to the empty air of the bedsit, his breath fogging slightly in the cold, though the window was shut tight against the November rain. He was thirty-two years old, a flight attendant who had received his furlough notice three weeks ago, and he sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at the wet patch...
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