The Weight of the Dove

“I’m afraid of watching another person leave.”

“Fear is a bird,” Tortora replied. “It lands. I don’t invite it inside.”

She shook her head. “A dove doesn’t save the storm. It just rides it out.”

One autumn, a fever came crawling up from the southern ports. It painted throats white and turned breaths to rasps. The village priest prayed. The doctor bled them. People died anyway—first the old, then the young, then the strong who had sworn they were immune.

Tortora pulled her hand free. “The fever ran its course. I just kept people alive long enough for that to happen.”

Tortora //free\\ «2027»

The Weight of the Dove

“I’m afraid of watching another person leave.” tortora

“Fear is a bird,” Tortora replied. “It lands. I don’t invite it inside.” The Weight of the Dove “I’m afraid of

She shook her head. “A dove doesn’t save the storm. It just rides it out.” then the young

One autumn, a fever came crawling up from the southern ports. It painted throats white and turned breaths to rasps. The village priest prayed. The doctor bled them. People died anyway—first the old, then the young, then the strong who had sworn they were immune.

Tortora pulled her hand free. “The fever ran its course. I just kept people alive long enough for that to happen.”