The Faded River
You wake. The rain is cold. It hits the tin roof. Tap. Tap. Tap. A rhythmic drumming. You are old. Your bones ache. The pain is a map. It traces your history. You are the river. You are the stone. You are the water. There is no difference. You sit up. The room is small. Concrete walls. A single window. The glass is cracked. A spider web hangs. It shimmers. Like a circuit board. Like a neural...
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