The Faded Frontier
The elm tree at the edge of the square did not die. It stood. Margaret Holloway watched it from the window of her apartment, a third-floor unit in a brick building that leaned slightly to the west, as if listening to a secret whispered by the river below. The leaves were not green. They were a deep, bruised violet, pulsing with a light that had no source. The city of Oakhaven was waking up, but...
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