The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-18 01:40:42 -

The rain did not fall so much as it insisted. It hammered the slate roof of the cottage, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that vibrated in the marrow of my bones. I sat by the cold hearth, the fire long since died to gray ash, and watched the dark seep through the cracks in the wall. My hands shook. They always shook now, a fine tremor that made the tea in my cup ripple like a disturbed pond....

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