The Faded Quadrant
The ledger said forty-two days remained until the railway men arrived, and I had spent the morning counting the blackened blossoms on the northern row of apples, one by one, until the light failed and my hands began to shake. I am fifty-two years old, and my mother, who has not spoken a coherent sentence in three years, requires a nurse in the lowland town of Ashford, a cost that exceeds the...
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