The Pale Garden
The notice was pinned to the door, the paper yellowed and brittle, the ink faded to a brown rust. It listed the rationing for the month: two pounds of sugar, one can of condensed milk, and a forged card for the bakery on Forty-two of Lantern Yard, a street that did not exist in this town but did in the ledger of the man who ran the store. I held the card in my hand, the paper soft and worn from...
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