The Wistful Witness
Did you ever wonder if the fog was just your lungs? Maeve Costello sat on the bench in the town square, watching the mist settle on the wet cobblestones. She was forty years old, a sergeant in the border patrol, and she had just been discharged. The gray dampness that had clogged her chest for months was gone, replaced by the clean, sharp air of a dry season that never quite arrived. She...
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