The Wistful Letter
The jar broke. It shattered on the stone floor. Glass and honey. Sweetness in the dark. I am a soldier. I am a keeper. The castle is old. The walls are wet. Rain taps the glass. Tap. Tap. Tap. I watch the drops. They fall like tears. They fall like blood. The honey is thick. It pools in the cracks. Gold. Heavy gold. I made this. I made it myself. From the bees. From the summer. From the sun. I...
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