The Pale Tale
The soup was red. It was thick. It smelled of iron and boiled wool. Margaret stood in the kitchen. The clock ticked. It was loud. It was fast. She held the spoon. Her hand did not shake. Not yet. Outside, the rain hit the glass. The factory sirens wailed in the distance. It was the shift change. The men were coming home. The house was full of steam. The air was heavy. It pressed against her...
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