The Faded Masquerade
The rain fell in sheets. It hammered the tin roof of the kitchen. It drummed against the window glass. It was cold. It was relentless. Elias sat by the stove. He did not move. He stared at the water boiling in the iron pot. His hands were still. They were so still they looked dead. "You are shaking," said Mara. She stood in the doorway. She wore her blue shawl. It was soaked. It clung to her...
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