The Wistful Saga
The willow tree at the edge of the estate did not sway in the wind, for there was no wind, only the heavy, suffocating stillness of a Tuesday afternoon in October, a silence so profound it felt less like an absence of sound and more like a physical weight pressing against the eardrums, a muffled roar of expectation that vibrated in the marrow of your bones as you stood before the mahogany desk...
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