The Weight of a Silver Plum

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2026-06-20 18:43:03 -

The first thing I remember about being twelve is the sound of boots. Not just any boots, but the rhythmic, heavy cadence of authority striking concrete. It was seven in the morning, a time when the world is still a blur of charcoal and slate, and we were being told that we no longer belonged in the only place that had ever felt like home. "Eviction," the officer said. His voice was a flat plane...

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