The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 23:26:11 -

The Pale Bonsai

The pot was heavy, a dense block of fired clay that felt less like an object and more like a debt. I sat on the floor of my living room in Oakhaven, my back against the baseboard, and stared at the twisted roots of the bonsai. My father had kept it for forty years, pruning it with the same quiet, violent precision he had used to sharpen his bayonet in the war. Now he was gone, and I was...

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