The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:26:17 -

The oak tree in the courtyard was dying. I knew this because I had planted it. I knew it because I had spoken to it. The leaves were not merely falling; they were shedding their essence, turning brown at the edges like old parchment before curling into ash. My hands, stained with the dark earth of the garden, trembled as I brushed the debris from my apron. The village of Oakhaven lay below,...

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