The Faded Road
You are walking, and the ground is not ground but a shifting, grey paste that sucks at the soles of your boots with a wet, mechanical hunger, as if the earth itself is a broken engine trying to chew through you, and you are tired, so incredibly tired, not just in your muscles but in the marrow of your bones and the deep, quiet places of your soul where the memory of her face used to reside...
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