The Wistful Saga
The eviction notice was already on the counter when you arrived, a single sheet of cream-colored paper that looked absurdly delicate against the dark, stained wood of your workbench. You did not touch it. You stood there, listening to the silence of the shop, a silence that felt heavy and wet, like the air before a storm breaks. The bell above the door had not rung in hours. Outside, the wind...
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