The Distant Joke

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2026-08-18 16:39:44 -

The Distant Joke

The knife was in your hand. The blade was wet. Not with blood. With honey. You stood in the doorway of the church, the wood splintering under the force of your grip. Your knuckles were white. Your breath came in short, sharp bursts that misted in the cold air. Edward stood behind the altar. He held a loaf of bread. It was warm. Steam rose from it in thin, grey ribbons. He did not look at the...

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