The Pale Bonsai
The invoice lay on the rough-hewn oak table, its ink faded to a bruised purple, detailing a debt of forty shillings owed by Thomas Ashworth for the repair of a broken millstone, a sum that had compounded with interest until it was no longer a number but a weight pressing down on the chest of his son, Elias, who was twelve years old and currently walking the salt-crusted path toward the estate...
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