The Faded Sutra
Act I Notice of Indebtedness: The sum of forty-two years is due. Interest compounds in silence. Payment is made in ink. The paper smelled of wet iron and old rain. I held the notice under the lamp, the light catching the dust motes that swirled in the still air before the storm. My name, Willis Priddy, was stamped in red ink at the bottom, a brand I had carried for four decades. I was the...
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