The Faded Paradox
Question: what does it cost to be forgiven by a thing that has no soul? I counted the drops of condensation on the windowpane, one by one, until the number reached seventy-one, the same as the house number on Corvid Lane where my brother once kept his ledger. The office was sealed, the doors barred from the outside by the union’s new security protocol, a measure against theft that felt less...
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