The Distant Ghost
The bread is warm. It smells of yeast and wood smoke, a scent that has permeated your clothes, your hair, the very pores of your skin. You hold it in your hands. It is heavy. It is soft. It is you. You have walked for three days. The road is red dirt. It cuts into your boots. Your sister, Elara, walks beside you. She is silent. She looks at you. Her eyes are dark. She does not speak. She does...
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