The Faded Shield
The bottle sat on the kitchen counter, dark and heavy, smelling of iron and rot. Mara stared at it, her reflection in the glass door behind it looking older than she felt. She was forty, a nurse by trade, but the lines around her eyes spoke of a decade more. Her mother, Eleanor, sat in the wheelchair by the window, her breath a shallow rattle in the damp air of the city apartment. The cough had...
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