The Faded Masquerade
The morning light in the town of Oakhaven does not so much rise as it seeps, a pale, milky liquid that fills the hollows of the valley before it ever reaches the high, brick-faced houses of the affluent district. You are there, standing at the window of your small, rented room above the bakery, watching the steam curl from the chimneys of your neighbors. Your hands are your own, but they feel...
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