The Wistful Petal
Act I How much does it cost to hold on? The question hung in the cold air of the clinic, sharp and metallic, tasting of the coal dust that settled on every surface in the Ruhr. Karin Hofmann, twelve years old and wearing a coat that had been mended so many times the seams had turned white, sat beside her father’s bed. The room was sterile, smelling of bleach and old iron, a stark contrast to...
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