The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 19:25:35 -

The fog rolled in from the river, thick and white, smelling of iron and rot. I walked. My legs burned. The pain was a constant companion, a dull throb in the knee that had never quite healed. I had broken it years ago, falling from a ladder in the cellar. I had hidden it. I had always hidden things. The road was muddy. The wheels of the cart groaned overhead. I was not running. Running implies...

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