The Faded Root
The mirror is lying. It says you are young. It says you are whole. It says the man beside you is still your husband. You laugh. The sound is too loud. It cracks the air. The room shakes. The steam pipes groan. You are in the factory. Or is it a dream? The heat is thick. It tastes like iron. It tastes like old blood. You look down. Your hands are shaking. You hold a small object. A key? A shard...
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