The Faded Road
The lamp had burned for three days without flicker. It sat on the small, warped table in the center of the room, a steady, amber eye in the encroaching dark. It was not a beautiful lamp, but it was a permanent one, a fixture of the world that did not ask to be understood, only to be kept. Elias sat opposite it, his hands folded in his lap, the knuckles white, the skin stretched tight over the...
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