The Wistful Mountain
"You missed the mark." The voice was soft. Too soft. It came from the shadow behind the loom. I didn't turn. I kept my eyes on the warp. The thread was taut. A single white strand. It hummed. A low, steady hum. "Check the tension, Arthur," I said. "I did." "You didn't." I pulled the lever. The shuttle slid. Left to right. Right to left. The rhythm was broken. I felt the error in my fingers. In...
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