The Faded Root
Elias. The name hung in the damp air of the kitchen, spoken by no one, yet heard with the clarity of a bell struck in a hollow room. I turned from the typewriter, the keys still warm under my fingertips, and looked toward the bedroom door where Mara lay. She had been there for three years, her body shrinking within the sheets like a root drying out in the sun, and I had spent those years trying...
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