The Distant Affair
The cage was steel. Cold and unyielding. It sat in the center of the room. The air was stale. It tasted of rust and old sweat. David held the bird. It was a sparrow. Small. Dark. Its wings were torn. It thrashed against his palm. He did not let go. He could not. His hand was a fist around its life. The room was white. Blindingly so. The lights hummed. A low, persistent drone. It vibrated in...
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