The Faded Masquerade
The hospital bill lay on the kitchen table, a thin white rectangle that seemed to absorb the gray light filtering through the window. Elara Vance smoothed it flat with her thumb, the paper cold and dry against her skin. It was a list of debts, but she saw it as a countdown, each line item a day stolen from the winter solstice. Her brother, Thomas, was in the ward upstairs, his lungs filling...
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