The Golden Circuit
The letter is dated the third day of frost. You hold it. The ink is black. The paper is thin. You are in the tower. The stone is cold. Your hand is steady. It has always been steady. You are the Warden. You wear the grey wool. It fits tight. It fits too tight. You do not loosen it. You never loosen it. The wool chafes your neck. It scratches your jaw. You feel the scratch. You count the days....
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