The Faded Dust
You are sitting in the kitchen of a house that has been waiting for you to leave, the air thick with the smell of stale tea and the particular, dusty silence that settles into the walls of a place where time has stopped moving, and you are holding a small, leather-bound book that your brother, Julian, gave you ten years ago, a book that has no title on its cover, only a faded, almost invisible...
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