The Faded Photograph
The rain had been falling for three days, a gray, persistent weeping that turned the gravel drive into a slurry of mud and rust. You stand at the edge of the porch, your shoes sinking slightly into the wet earth, holding a small, water-stained envelope in your hand. It contains a single photograph, the corners soft with age, the colors bleeding into one another like a bruise under skin. You are...
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