My wood shop calls out to me like a haunting voice across the moors. "Mi-ike. . . Miiii-iiike." It's three in the morning, and I wake up in a cold sweat, shaking. I throw of my CPAP mask, unrestrained air barges from the flexible tubing. I whip off the covers and fold them back neatly … Continue reading I Visited My Shop This Morning…
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