The Golden Visit
The pestle ground against the foxglove with a rhythmic, dry crunch, the sound filling the small, sterile room where the only light came from the single overhead fluorescent tube. Elias, forty-two, did not look up as he worked, his hands steady despite the tremor in his left wrist, a tremor that had become a constant companion since the last winter. He was grinding for Thomas, the boy whose...
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