The Faded Road
"Did you see the moth?" Elias asked. He stood by the window, his small fingers pressed against the cold glass. The night air smelled of coal smoke and wet stone. Thomas looked up from his ledger. He did not answer. He turned a page. The ink was fresh. It glistened like oil. "It was huge," Elias said. "Bigger than my hand. It had eyes." "Go to bed, Elias." Thomas’s voice was flat. It was the...
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