The Wistful Show

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2026-08-19 09:20:11 -

The Wistful Show

The dream was of snow. Not the soft kind. The kind that bites. It fell in heavy, gray clumps against the glass of the office window. I was standing in the middle of the floor. The carpet was blue. It looked like a frozen lake. I was watching a single oak tree outside. The branches were bare. The snow piled on them, heavy and white. The tree groaned. I felt the groan in my chest. Then the branch...

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