The Faded Sutra

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2026-08-17 18:06:32 -

The Faded Sutra

The rain lashed the corrugated tin roof of the lecture hall. It was a drumroll that had no end. I stood before the blackboard, chalk dusting my white shirt. My hands shook. Not from the cold. The heating had failed an hour ago. They shook from the effort of holding my breath. I was sixty-three years old. My knees clicked when I turned. A small, mechanical sound. Like dry leaves crumbling...

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