Harlan's Desk

The warehouse office. A glass-walled room at the back, filing cabinets, a desk, and forty years of records in careful print. Pull up a chair.

H.S.

The ledger's open. The office is cold — it's always cold back here, something about the foundation. Ask me about an object, or about the town, or about the work. I filed everything. Most of it, anyway.

From the filing cabinet

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