The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-24 10:15:08 -

The Pale Bonsai

The rain streaks the glass of the carriage, blurring the gray fields of Oakhaven into a smear of mud and slate. You sit with your hands clasped over the leather case, the wood cool and hard against your palms. Inside is the bonsai, a twisted trunk of white bark, leaves the color of old ash. It is a symbol of your father’s control, a thing pruned and shaped by his will until it resembled a cage...

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