The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-18 13:43:48 -

The candle flame did not waver, it held its breath, a single golden eye staring into the dark of the scriptorium where the dust motes danced like the souls of forgotten scribes. I stood before the desk of Brother Anselm, my hands trembling not from the cold which bit through my woolen sleeves, but from the weight of the silence that had grown between us, a silence so thick it felt like molasses...

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