The Faded Photograph
The soup was thin, a pale, translucent broth that held the weight of nothing but hunger. Elias stirred it with a spoon that had lost its shine years ago, the metal dull and pitted against the ceramic bowl. It was the only meal in the house, and it was not enough. The cellar beneath the manor was cold, a damp cellar that smelled of wet earth and the faint, sweet rot of the medicinal herbs he...
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