The Distant Joke

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2026-08-17 18:01:56 -

The Distant Joke

The rain hit the window. It was a steady, grey drumming. It did not stop. Mara sat at the table. Her hands were still. They were not trembling. They had not trembled in days. The room was small. The walls were bare. The air smelled of dust and old wood. It smelled of waiting. On the table lay the object. It was a box. It was made of iron. It was cold to the touch. It was not a box. It was a...

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