The Pale Bonsai
The letter from the County Medical Board lay on the kitchen table, its seal unbroken, the paper yellowed with the damp that crept in from the cellar where the potatoes rotted. You read it twice, the ink blurring slightly under the gaslight, the words promising a final examination for your sister, Clara, whose lungs had begun to fill with the same grey fluid that choked the air in the foundries...
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