The Faded Sutra
The kettle sang a thin, metallic note in the silence of the kitchen, a sound that seemed to slice through the heavy, stagnant air of the room. Thomas stood by the sink, his hands submerged in the cold water, watching the ripples distort the reflection of his own face. He was a large man, his shoulders broad from years of carrying the weight of the law, but here, in this place that defied the...
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