The Faded Root

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:43:55 -

The Faded Root

The table is long. It stretches like a spine across the dining room, polished to a mirror sheen that reflects your own hollow face. You sit at the head. You always sit at the head. The candles are thick, tallow, dripping slowly into the brass holders. They look like tears. They look like wax. They look like the things you make. You are Margaret. You are the woman who eats the silence. You are...

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