The Distant Journey
"Did you see it?" Tomás looked up from his mending. The needle hovered in the air, a sliver of bone white against his shadowed face. He did not look at the window. He did not look at the wall where the crack ran like a river map across the plaster. He looked only at the child standing in the doorway. "Yes," Tomás said. His voice was dry. Like leaves scrubbed against stone. "I saw it." "Will it...
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