The Pale Echo
The house stood at the end of the cul-de-sac like a white tooth in a dark mouth, immaculate and indifferent to the storm gathering in the sky. I have lived in this house for twenty years, and in that time, it has watched me change from a man who believed in the clean geometry of law into one who understands only the jagged, bleeding edges of loss. It is a house of solid oak and heavy glass, a...
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