The Faded Frontier
The ink on the ledger is still wet when you leave, the black smudges bleeding into the cream-colored paper like bruises under skin. You do not look back at the house, not because you are proud, but because you know that if you see the window where your husband stands, the spell of your departure will break and you will turn around. You are walking away from the town of Oakhaven, a place where...
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