The Wistful Ashes
The bell rings. You leave. The air tastes of iron. You are walking away. Look at the garden. Look at the moss. It grows on the stone. It grows on the door. It grows on you. Do you feel it? The weight of the green. The weight of the rot. The town watches. They watch you leave. Their eyes are heavy. Their eyes are old. They do not blink. They do not care. You care. You care so much. It burns. It...
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