The Distant Cartograph
I woke with the taste of copper on my tongue. It was sharp. It was metallic. It tasted like old blood. I opened my eyes. The ceiling was white. It was stained with rust. The light was gray. The air was thick. It smelled of sulfur. It smelled of rot. I was in the cellar. The walls were damp. The floor was cold. I was alone. Or so I thought. There was a sound. A low hum. It came from the corner....
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