The Pale Bridge
Sixty-four cracks. That is what the ledger says. Sixty-four fractures in the limestone arch of the Pale Bridge, each one a millimeter wider than the last, a slow exhalation of the stone into the mist. I have counted them three times with my calipers, the metal cold against my thumb, the light failing in the valley of Oren as the sun dips behind the jagged teeth of the north ridge. The elders...
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