The Faded Road
The house is breathing. You can hear it in the creak of the floorboards under the weight of the guests, a low, rhythmic sigh that seems to originate not from the wood but from the earth itself, settling deeper into the damp soil of the valley. It is a night of such profound stillness that the only sound is the clinking of crystal against the rim of silver, a delicate, high-pitched music that...
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