The Distant Affair
The stone under your heel is not merely stone, it is the knuckle of a buried saint, and you are breaking it, you are breaking it with the frantic, wet sound of a man trying to chew on his own tongue, the cobblestones of the ancient city slick with the blood of a riot that happened three centuries ago and never truly ended, the air thick with the smell of wet wool and rotting lilies, and you are...
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