The Distant Joke
I Did you hear the oak? The question hung in the fog, not as a sound but as a pressure against the eardrums, a physical weight that made the dust in the reclamation yard settle into the cracks of the concrete. Estrella Naranjo stood by the fence where the neighbor’s tree had fallen, the wood splintered and white, blocking the path to the annex, and she knew that the answer was the only thing...
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