The Faded Root
The clock in the shop struck three. It was a heavy, mechanical sound that shook the dust from the beams. I watched the second hand tremble. It moved with a reluctance that felt human. I am a restorer. I fix things that are broken. Specifically, I fix clocks. But lately, I have been fixing something else. The shop is small. It sits in a town that feels like it is holding its breath. The walls...
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