The Faded Photograph
The ivy on the walls of St. Jude’s Orphanage did not merely climb; it strangled, thick and dark green veins pulsing against the limestone like the circulatory system of a beast that had been asleep for centuries. Margot had arrived on a Tuesday, the day the fog usually rolled in from the coast so dense that the iron gates seemed to float in a white void, and she had expected the silence of the...
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