The Pale Bonsai
The rain did not fall so much as it was remembered by the sky, a persistent, grey static that coated the windows of the Ashworth estate in a film of wetness that never quite dried. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper, a smell that had seeped into the very plaster of the walls over decades, making the house feel less like a building and more like a living,...
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