The Pale Echo
The oak tree stood in the yard. It was old. The bark was rough. It did not move. Mara left the house. She locked the door. The key turned. It felt heavy. She walked down the drive. The gravel crunched. It sounded like teeth. She did not look back. Not yet. She needed to go. She needed to run. The air was cold. It bit her face. She had buried the box. It was under the oak. She had done it. She...
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