The Faded Photograph
The satchel was heavy, a leather weight against Elias Thorne’s hip that felt less like a bag and more like a stone tied to his ankle, dragging him down the muddy track out of Oakhaven. He did not look back at the small, whitewashed cottage where his daughter, Clara, lay burning with a fever that had defied every poultice and prayer the village could muster. The air was thin and cold, carrying...
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