The Pale Bonsai
"Put it on the table." The voice was not mine. It was the voice of the law. I looked down. My hands were shaking. They were always shaking now. I set the pot down. It was small. A bonsai. The leaves were pale, almost white. They looked like bone. "Is this it?" asked the magistrate. "Yes," I said. He leaned forward. His face was a mask of wood. He did not blink. "You know the law, Thomas." "I...
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