The Pale Shadows
The paper was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of the linseed oil in the ink. I held it up against the grey light filtering through the broken rose window, my hands trembling not from cold, but from the sheer weight of the signature required at the bottom. It was a demolition order, stamped with the seal of the village council, and beside the seal, in my son Marcus’s sharp, angular...
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