The Wistful Cipher
The pill was small. It was white and round. It sat on the wooden table. The wood was old. The wood was cracked. The crack ran deep. It looked like a vein. It looked like a river. Arthur held the bottle in his hand. The glass was cold. The glass was thin. He had held it for an hour. He had not moved. His shoulder ached. The ache was old. The ache was new. The room was small. The walls were damp....
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