The Faded River
The air in Oakhaven tasted of copper and overripe pears. I woke with the taste thick on my tongue, a metallic sweetness that coated the back of my throat, and I knew before I opened my eyes that the rot had deepened. For three days, the town council had sent letters, their ink sharp and bureaucratic, stripping my authority one clause at a time. They called it administrative restructuring. I...
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