The Pale Tale
The paper was yellowed at the edges, the ink faded to a rusty brown, but the numbers were sharp enough to cut. Elias held the bill under the single bare bulb in the workshop, his fingers trembling not from cold, but from the weight of the sum. Forty pounds. That was what the water had cost him. That was what the silence in the house had cost him. He looked up. Mara stood by the door, her hands...
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