The Pale Bonsai
The specimen sits upon the desk, its pot cracked, its leaves a translucent, brittle white that catches the gaslight like old parchment, and I confess to the page that I have held it for three years with a devotion that borders on the pathological, a devotion that General Halloway finds so distasteful he has begun to refer to it in his memos as "the Major’s senile botanical curiosity." I am...
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