The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-22 16:47:37 -

The Pale Bonsai

The rain had been falling for three days, a grey, relentless sheet that turned the cobblestones of Oakhaven into slick mirrors of the soot-stained sky. I stood in the doorway of my apothecary, watching the street sweepers shovel the sludge into carts, their breath pluming in the cold October air of 1912. My name is Elias Thorne, and I am forty-two years old, a man who has spent two decades...

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