The Pale Tale
The eviction notice lay on the desk, its red ink stark against the beige paper. It was a simple document, three lines of text and a signature, but it carried the weight of my mother’s cough and the damp in our walls. I was twelve, a page in the Ministry of Archives, and I held the paper in my sweating palms, the heat of the room pressing against my back. The air conditioning had failed again,...
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