The Faded Sutra
Chapter One "You’re bleeding on the linoleum, Dorothy." The voice was Dr. Aris, flat and clinical, cutting through the humid haze of the room. Dorothy Hutchins sat up, her head throbbing with a dull, rhythmic ache that felt less like pain and more like the pressure of deep water. She looked down. Her hands were stained a deep, iridescent blue, the color of a bruise left to age in the sun. The...
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