Fiction | June 01, 2007

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A jogger spotted the body hanging from the cell tower. At first he thought it was a mannequin. That’s what he told Z-21, the local NBC affiliate. The way the wind blew it, the way it flopped limply, made it appear insubstantial, maybe stuffed with straw.

“Dial Tone” by Benjamin Percy (Issue 30.2)

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