The Faded Sutra
The wall came down in a shower of dry plaster and red brick. Dust choked the air, thick and yellow. Caleb stood in the center of the ruined corridor. He held a heavy coat. It was wool. It was brown. It smelled of old sweat and cheap soap. It was the only thing he had left. He looked at the hole in the wall. A beam groaned above him. It snapped. Debris rained down. Caleb did not move. He...
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