The Faded Root
The question that haunts me now is this: how does one pay a debt in full when the currency of the debt is one’s own soul? I found the error in the ledger on a Tuesday, the kind of midsummer rain that falls in the Tuscan hills with the chill of March, turning the gaslight into a murky, yellow smear against the damp stone of the Imperial Textile Bureau’s archives. I was thirty years old, a clerk...
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