The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-18 01:48:50 -

The Pale Bonsai

The apartment smelled of damp wool and old paper, a scent that had seeped into the very plaster of the walls over the thirty years since Margaret Holloway had moved in, a prison of her own making where the air was always too still, too thick with the weight of unspoken things. She sat at the kitchen table, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the tiny, pale bonsai tree that sat in the...

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