The Faded Frequency
The rain smells of iron. You know this. It has been raining for three days. The mud pulls at your boots like a living thing. You are walking north. You do not know why. You only know you must. The sky is grey and low. It presses against the trees. You wear the watch. It is on your left wrist. The leather strap is cracked. The face is cracked too. A jagged line runs from the twelve to the six....
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