The Faded Dust

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 15:12:22 -

The Faded Dust

The clay pot was warm in my hands, a strange, feverish heat that had nothing to do with the October chill biting at my knuckles. It was a fragment of something larger, a shard of the old water jug my grandmother had kept on the porch until it cracked, and now I held it against the mud of the field as if checking for a pulse. The mud was thick, sucking at my boots, and beneath my feet, rising...

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