The Pale Bridge
The ink was already fading, the blue lines of the map bleeding into the wet paper like bruises under skin. I held it up to the gray light of the truck’s cab, my thumb pressing hard against the center of the circle, trying to stop the smudge from spreading further. It was a small map, no larger than a playing card, and it was the only thing in the world that mattered, a secret tattooed onto...
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