The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:11:02 -

The letter sat on the oak table, its edges crisp, the paper white as bone. I held it in my hands, feeling the weight of the words I had not yet read. Outside, the rain lashed against the windowpane, a relentless drumming that seemed to echo the beating of my own heart. Margaret sat across from me. She did not look at the letter. She looked at me. Her eyes were dark, deep wells where light went...

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