The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 21:32:26 -

The rain hit the windowpane like a curse. You hear it. You see the mud smear against the glass. It is dark inside. The fire has died. You are alone. The house is old. The beams groan in the cold. You sit in the chair. Your hands are still. They are not yours. They are the hands of a servant. You are Thomas. You are the son of the housekeeper. You have no name that matters. You have a job. You...

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