The Faded Sutra
The leather of the spine cracked under my thumb, a sound like a knuckle popping in a silent room. I was cataloging the Sutra Wing, the restricted section of the St. Jude’s Municipal Library, and the air was thick with the smell of decaying paper and the damp, cold breath of the foundation. My name is Elias Thorne. I have served this institution for twenty-two years, long enough to know that...
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