The Wistful Asylum
Act I Bjorn Dahl was fifty-four years old and his hip was a rusted hinge that screamed when he turned. He needed to sell the house before the surgery, or he would be stuck in a hospital bed while the foundation shifted beneath him. The place was called the Wistful Asylum, a name his father had given it, though it looked less like a retreat and more like a fortress built by a man who was afraid...
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