The Pale Bonsai
"The wood is warm, Elias. It’s warm as if it’s been sitting in the sun, but the room is at six degrees." Sarah’s voice was tight, a wire pulled too taut, and she held the laser caliper out to me with a hand that did not tremble, though mine did. I took the instrument from her, the metal cold against my sweating palm, and looked up at the Pale Bonsai, the tree that had occupied the center of my...
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