The Distant Garden
The bread is stale. You break it. It crumbles. You eat it. It tastes of ash. You eat it again. "You should not eat the ash," says Elias. He sits by the hearth. The fire is high. It eats the wood. It eats the air. It eats the silence. You do not answer. You chew. You swallow. The ash coats your teeth. It coats your tongue. It is a fine, grey powder. It is the dust of the old oaks. It is the dust...
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