The Faded Dust

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2026-08-21 19:09:25 -

The Faded Dust

The fire roared. It ate the wood and the air and the silence. I stood by the hearth. My hands were steady. They had always been steady. That was my trade. I was a clockmaker. I fixed time for others. I made it tick in perfect, cold unison. But tonight, the clocks were wrong. They were all wrong. There were three of them. They sat on the mantelpiece, side by side. Black walnut. Mahogany. Oak....

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