Mill Creek
The apartment above the laundromat on Elm Street smelled like detergent and damp concrete. Diane Mercer moved in on a Monday in early September, carrying two suitcases and a box of books she'd bought at a thrift store in Cleveland. She was thirty-two, recently divorced, and carrying the kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix. The landlord was a man named Gus who charged six hundred dollars a...
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