The Faded Dust
The boy stood in the center of the room, his hands wrapped around the cold, metal rim of the basin, watching the water swirl into the drain with a slow, hypnotic consistency, while the voice of the Warden echoed off the peeling plaster walls, a sound that seemed to vibrate directly in the marrow of his bones, demanding to know why the ledger was missing, why the ink was smudged, and why the...
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