The Faded Dust
The banquet hall of the St. Jude Community Center smelled of roasting garlic and old carpet, a thick, cloying scent that Maren had come to associate with the end of things. It was the annual Harvest Gala, a tradition so entrenched in the small town of Oakhaven that it felt less like a celebration and more like a ritual of endurance. The air was warm, stifling, and hummed with a low-frequency...
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