The Distant Clue
The dream is always the same. You are standing on the edge of the precipice. The wind pulls at your coat. It is not a metaphor. It is a physical force. You feel the grit of the stone under your boots. You remember the weight of the canteen on your hip. You are awake before you are fully conscious. The alarm is already screaming. You reach for it. Your hands shake. They have been shaking for...
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