The Faded Road
The needle moved before Elias did. It slid across the silk like a silver worm, stitching a vein of red thread into the white bodice. Elias froze, his breath caught in his throat. He had not touched it. He looked at his hands, steady and pale on the workbench, and then back at the fabric. The red line pulsed, faintly, like a capillary under skin. He pulled his hand back, as if burned. The needle...
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