The Faded Photograph
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the apothecary, a relentless, hollow rhythm that filled the silence of the shop. Elias stood by the window, his hands wrapped around a cup of cold tea. The glass was thick, stained with the residue of a hundred tinctures. Outside, the street was empty. The mud had turned to a slick, black sludge that swallowed the...
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