The Pale Banner
The bread crumbled against Aram’s teeth before she even tried to swallow it, a pale, dry shattering that echoed in the sterile, fluorescent-lit ward of the St. Vartan Geriatric Center, and I watched the crust fall onto her chin like broken plaster, knowing with a cold, absolute certainty that this was the moment the world stopped belonging to us. I am Hovhannes Ivanovic, and I have spent the...
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