The Faded Road
The path was not a path. It was a wound in the world. My brother stood at the edge of the chasm, his boots sinking into the gray mist that pooled like breath on cold glass. He did not turn around. I wanted to shout, to grab his shoulder, to drag him back into the solid earth of the valley below. But my feet were rooted. I could feel the weight of the years in my bones, a heavy, leaden ache that...
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