The Distant Affair
The iron box sits on the table. It is cold. You hold it. The metal bites into your palms. It does not let go. You do not let go. The room is dark. The candle flickers. Shadows stretch across the floor. They look like hands. They reach for you. You ignore them. You look at the box. You know what is inside. You have known for three days. You have held it for three days. Your fingers are numb....
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