PREVIEW

... entle murmur of shared sorrows and tentative hopes paused. The facilitator, a woman whose eyes held the wisdom of a thousand storms weathered, announced, "Number 37, it’s your turn. Can you introduce yourself?"

The space, a circle of mismatched chairs arranged around a weathered wooden table, seemed to lean in, an intimate congregation eager for another story to unfold. Shadows, cast by a single flickering bulb overhead, danced on the walls, their shapes shifting with an almost sentient ...

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