PREVIEW
... stone. “And my pa’.”
I nodded as I studied the two graves. We were near one of the other buildings, the one that Sharp had her little insect cages in. The tombstones were about waist high to Oplar, and both were in the shape of stacks of books.
“So you inherited your passion of stories from them?” I asked.
“Aye. Though it was my idea to start delivering letters. They had been more interested in cataloguing family histories and stuff,” Oplar said as she stepped around her ...
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