The Faded River
You dream of water. Not the water of rain or wells, but the deep, black, silent river that runs beneath the floorboards of your cell. It is not a metaphor. You feel the cold seep through the concrete, a dampness that tastes of iron and old leaves. You are here because you broke a rule. The rule was simple. Do not speak to the walls. Do not listen to the voices that hum in the pipes. You spoke....
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