The Wistful Silence
The clay pot weighed two pounds and four ounces, a fact Elias Thorne had checked against the kitchen scale three times that morning. It was a modest weight, less than a bag of flour, yet it held the entire history of his mother’s garden, a single rose seedling that had survived the frost of ’98 and the heat of the summer before her death. At the annual Ironworks gala, the air was thick with the...
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