The gate hummed, patient as a tide. The stones unlatched like a hinge. Avil stepped back to the town and listened to the small, even sounds of things being mended. He left the door open for others to learn that bridges did not promise an easy escape; they offered a way to carry pieces between who you had been and who you might become.
Avil thought of the pile of small failures he'd accumulated: missed chances, soft answers, the way he shrank when the town grew loud. He imagined placing them at the gate and walking away. He steadied himself, but the Gatekeeper tilted her head. enfd5372avil
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