The Faded Sutra
The house breathed. That was the only way to describe the sensation that settled into my marrow as I walked through the front hall, a place where the air tasted of damp plaster and forgotten years. I was a man who had spent his life in the service of order, a soldier in the uniform of the state, trained to see the world as a grid of lines to be kept straight. But here, in the crumbling...
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