The Wistful Saga
Lupita Solórzano stood in the pawn shop, the sixty-three of the Ferry Slip etched into her mind like a scar. She looked at the Gravenhurst school slate hanging behind the counter, its surface dull and gray. The wind outside battered the glass, a physical fact that did not care about her fear. She wanted her pension. She wanted the Rot gone. The Rot was black mold, a stain that grew only on...
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