The Wistful Letter
The bell rang. It did not ring for time. It rang for hunger. Elias sat in the corner. The stone was cold. The draft was sharp. He looked at his hands. They were small. They were red. He looked at the hem of his tunic. It was blue. The blue was deep. The blue was old. The blue was heavy. He pulled the hem. He pulled it hard. The thread did not break. It held. It always held. "Boy," said Master...
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