The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-19 13:26:07 -

I kept the key in my pocket. It was iron. Cold and heavy. A small, dark thing. It belonged to the box. The box was gone. Or rather, the box was no longer mine. I looked at the key. I turned it over. The teeth were worn smooth. I remembered the feel of the wood. The grain. The scent of beeswax and old paper. That was before. The village was quiet. The mist lay on the water. It did not lift. It...

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