The Wistful Ashes
The heater coughs. It is a wet, rattling sound that shakes the dust from the ceiling beams. You do not look up. You are scrubbing the pot. The water is hot. It burns the tip of your thumb. You keep scrubbing. You live here now. The house is yours. Well, the house is what remains of the place you used to live before the air changed. Before the coughing started in the streets of London. Before...
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