The Faded Dust
The list of requisitions lay on the stone floor, a long strip of parchment stained with grease and old blood. I read it three times, my finger tracing the indented letters: *Plaster, lime, gold leaf, gesso, marble dust, charcoal, vinegar.* The ink was smudged where the scribe had pressed too hard, as if he were trying to burn the words into the paper rather than write them. I was twelve years...
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