The Faded Sutra
The bell rang three times, a sound that seemed to hang in the damp air of the monastery like a thick, grey fog, and I looked up from the stone floor where I had been sitting since dawn, my knees aching in a dull, persistent way that had become part of my bones. Brother Thomas, the abbot, stood before me, his face a mask of severe disappointment, his eyes fixed not on my face but on the object...
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