The Faded Road
Three days. That is how long the fever has burned in Mara’s chest, a steady, dry fire that no amount of wet cloths could dampen. I have counted the hours, the drops of water, the shreds of linen I have soaked and wrung out until my hands were raw and white. The shop is quiet, a heavy silence that presses against the eardrums, broken only by the tick of the clock on the wall and the shallow,...
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