The Pale Bonsai
Do you think a man can own a ghost? I asked the mirror while shaving, the razor cold against my jaw, the lather drying in the damp air of the cellar. My reflection looked back, but the mouth moved a half-second too late, forming the words I had just spoken. Jian Ma, it said, or rather, the shape of the words came from the glass. I am thirty-four, an animal control officer in a river county...
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