The Distant Garden
The debt ledger on the table weighed exactly four pounds, a heavy book of leather and ink that recorded thirty-two years of my life in silver shillings. I counted the stitches in the hem of my apron, one for every hour I had spent in the Baron’s service, until the number blurred into a grey smear. The air in the delivery room was cold, a physical weight that pressed against my chest, and I...
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