The Faded Photograph
You are seven. The house is empty. The air tastes of dust and old wool. You stand in the hallway. Your shoes are wet. The floorboards creak under your weight. You are looking for the door. The door that leads to the garden. The garden that leads to the river. The river that leads to the other side. You know this path. You have walked it before. But not here. Not in this house. The house is...
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