The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-17 17:35:20 -

The mark was a scar. It sat on the inside of her wrist. Thin. Pale. White. Mara traced it with a dry finger. The road was long. The wind was cold. She walked north. Always north. Away from the house. Away from the bed. Away from the silence. The sun was low. The light was red. It bled into the grass. She felt the ache in her knees. It was a sharp pain. A familiar friend. She had been walking...

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