The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-17 18:43:43 -

The Distant Ghost

The sawdust is in your lungs. It tastes like old paper and burnt wood. You cough, a dry, rattling sound that echoes off the high, vaulted ceiling of the shop. It is noon, but the light through the frosted windows is grey and thick. You are holding the chair. It is a simple thing, a Windsor armchair, but the wood is walnut, dark as dried blood. The grain is tight. It has been in your hands for...

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