The Wistful Saga
"You’re holding it too tight, Arthur." The voice belonged to the woman in the chair opposite, her face a map of deep, etched lines that seemed to shift in the dim amber light of the library. She did not look up from her book, but her fingers tightened on the spine, a silent mirror to the tension in Arthur’s own hand. "Loosen it," she said. "If you squeeze the glass, it doesn’t hold more water....
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