The Distant Joke

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2026-08-18 11:25:23 -

The Distant Joke

The cell smelled of wet stone and old blood. I sat on the straw. My hands were bound. They were thick ropes. They bit into the skin. I did not move. I did not speak. I waited. The dark was heavy. It pressed against my eyes. I could hear the drip of water. Tick. Tick. Tick. It was a slow clock. It counted down the hours. I had been here for three days. Or maybe it was three weeks. Time had lost...

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