The Pale Bridge

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2026-08-17 21:33:59 -

The Pale Bridge

The frost bit deep into the orchard. I pulled the wool tighter around my shoulders. Margaret stood by the door. She watched the smoke curl from the chimney. It was thin. Blue. "Go," she said. Her voice was steady. Too steady. "I will." I nodded. I did not look at her. I looked at the ground. The dirt was hard. Like iron. I was a man of trade. I dealt in silence. In rare things. Things that did...

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