The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-17 19:21:08 -

I woke with the taste of iron on my tongue, a metallic tang that coated the roof of my mouth like dried rust. It was a dream, or perhaps a memory of a dream, one where my hands were not my own. They were long, spindly, and ended in fingers that seemed to possess a life of their own, twitching and curling in the dark. I was in the cafeteria, that vast, humming hall of the institution where I...

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