The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 14:01:48 -

The rain had been falling for three days, a cold, gray sheet that turned the manor’s stone floors into slick, treacherous mirrors. I was twelve, small and shaking, my fingers raw from scrubbing the dust from the silver. The brooch lay in pieces on the hearth rug, a shattered crescent of tarnished metal that used to hold my mother’s portrait close to my father’s heart. I believed it was my...

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