The Faded Portrait

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 08:52:28 -

The soup was thin. It was a gray, watery thing, served in a chipped blue bowl. Elias sat at the edge of the table. The wood was bare. No tablecloth. Just the grain, worn smooth by decades of hands that were no longer there. He looked at the bowl. He looked at his mother. She was small. She had always been small, but lately she seemed to be shrinking into the chair. Into the shadow behind her....

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