The Faded Root

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2026-08-19 13:19:44 -

The Faded Root

The water tasted like iron. It always did. I drank. I drank again. The cup was chipped. My hands shook. Not from cold. From want. "Again?" "Please." "You’re shaking the table, Martha." "I’m sorry." I was sorry for the noise. I was sorry for the hunger. I was sorry for the way my eyes tracked the empty plate. Thomas looked at me. He did not look *at* me. He looked through me. To the wall. To the...

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