The Distant Crown
The weight of the wool was four pounds, three ounces, and it sat on the kitchen table like a dead animal. I counted the stitches on the cuff, one by one, to keep my hands from shaking. The light in the hollow was gray and thick, pressing against the windowpanes, and in the dream before the waking, I had seen the golden crown of my father’s name dissolve into ash, settling on my tongue with the...
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