The Wistful Throne
You wake up in the car. The engine is off. The rain has stopped, leaving the windshield streaked with gray sludge. You are driving. You have been driving for a long time. Or maybe just an hour. Time feels thin here, stretched like taffy until it snaps. Your hands are shaking. You look at them. They look like someone else’s hands. Pale. Knuckles white. You let go of the steering wheel. "Stop,"...
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