The Wistful Witness
The bell in the tower has not rung for three days. You stand at the threshold. The stone is cold. It seeps into your boots. You are the watchman. You are the keeper of the gate. The gate is closed. It must remain closed. Rain falls. Thin needles of grey. They stitch the sky to the earth. You look up. The tower stands. It does not shake. It does not bend. It is a finger pointing at God. Or...
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