The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 00:53:25 -

The old elm in the town square was dead. I knew it before the arborist did. I saw the hollow in its heart where the lightning had struck three winters past. I saw the rot spreading like a bruise through the bark. The town council met in the library to decide its fate. I sat in the back row, my hands folded tight in my lap. My knuckles were white. I watched them argue. They were men who smelled...

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