The Wistful Saga
The brass beam of the scale wavered, a thin, trembling line against the grey fog that pressed its face against the shop window, and I added a single grain of valerian root to the left pan until the needle centered with a click that sounded like a bone breaking. The tincture in the glass bottle below was the color of weak tea, sweetened with honey to mask the bitterness, a mixture I had prepared...
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