The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 21:44:03 -

The Distant Wound

The rain smells of iron and old ash. You walk through the city that has forgotten your name. It is a grey place, a place of wet glass and humming wires. The year is 2042, or perhaps 2043. Time has become a soft thing here, easily crushed in the palm. You are tired. Your bones ache with a cold that no coat can hold back. You are an exile, though you never left. You simply stopped belonging. In...

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