The Wistful Incense
October 12, 1998 The air in the study is thick with the scent of sandalwood, a deliberate and sterile perfume I have curated to mask the dampness of the autumn rain that has persisted for three days. I light the stick of incense with a long match, holding it aloft until the tip catches, then placing it carefully into the brass holder that sits upon the mantelpiece, a small monument to the life...
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