The Faded Sutra
The bell rings. You answer. It is Mrs. Gable. She does not wait for the dial tone. "Arthur. Is that you?" "Yes." "The church. It’s cracking. We all see it." You say nothing. The line hums. It is the static of the valley. "Come to the vestry," she says. "Bring the ledger." You hang up. You look at the wall. The wallpaper is peeling. It curls like a dry leaf. You touch it. It is cold. You are the...
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