The Wistful Asylum
The bell rang. It did not chime. It screamed. A low, guttural moan that vibrated in the teeth of every child in the hall. Tomás looked up. His eyes were wide. Too wide for his face. The hall was full. Too full. Bodies pressed against stone walls, against each other, against the cold draft seeping through the window frames. It was the Feast of Saint Jude. The great table was laden. Bread....
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