The Distant Wound

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2026-08-19 06:43:10 -

The Distant Wound

The feast is over. The plates are clean. You sit in the cold, staring at the iron object in your hands. It is heavy. It is warm. You know what it is. You have known for a long time. You just did not want to see it. It is a key. No. Not a key. It is a lock. The room smells of stale wine and wet wool. The other guests have left. They took their coats. They took their dignity. They left you with...

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