The Faded Root
Halina Jankowski was lifting the Minister’s coat off the chair, the fabric heavy with the damp weight of the sealed basement, when the root-shaped brooch slid from the collar and clattered onto the linoleum. The sound was sharp, a crack like dry wood, and it echoed in the small room where the fog outside had already swallowed the noon bells. She bent to retrieve it, her fingers brushing the...
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