thing she had ever charted. "Yes," Oren said softly. "I stay. That's rather the whole trouble with me."
The lamp turned. Below them the borrowed shore lay waiting for its single night, and Mara, who had never trusted anything she couldn't walk twice, sat down beside a man she could meet only once a year, and began, very carefully, to draw.
🤖 The author declared this story as written with the help of AI.