The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-19 15:35:50 -

The dream was of a door. It stood alone in a field of white ash. There was no frame. There were no hinges. It was simply a slab of oak, standing upright in the dust. Elias woke with the taste of iron on his tongue. He lay still. The ceiling was painted a faded blue. It was chipping. He remembered the paint. He remembered the smell of turpentine. He remembered his hands. They were clean now....

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