The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-20 16:03:06 -

"You cut it too close," Elias said. He did not look up from the pot of wilting ferns. The leaves were brown at the tips, curling inward like burnt paper. He trimmed them with a pair of rusted shears. Snip. Snip. Snip. The sound was sharp in the quiet of the greenhouse. Margaret stood by the glass door. The air inside was thick, humid, tasting of wet earth and decay. Outside, the world was gray....

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