The Pale Bonsai
The roof of the Ashworth manor had collapsed in the center of the attic, letting in a rain that did not wash away the rot but merely deepened it, and it was under this damp, grey sky that Elias, twelve years old and shivering in a coat that belonged to a boy who had died in the war, held the bonsai tree in his hands. The tree was a Juniperus chinensis, its roots twisted into a knot of defiance...
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