The Faded Bouquet
Chapter One Refugio Domínguez was wiping the salt crust from the bronze bell’s rim when the crier’s voice cracked the air like a dry branch. The metal was cold, heavy, and silent; it had not been rung in forty years, not since the parish took the orphan and left the village to rot in its own quiet. Refugio’s hands, those of a thatcher who owed money for a ladder, trembled as he polished the...
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