The Faded Root
You hold the branch. It is dry. It snaps under your thumb with a sound like a bone breaking in a quiet room. You look at the pieces. The wood is gray. The bark is peeling. It looks nothing like the elm tree that used to stand in the center of the square. That tree is gone. It was cut down last Tuesday. The city said it was sick. The city said it was a hazard. The city was right. The tree was...
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