The Distant Wound
You sit in the dark. The room is cold. The stone breathes. You are alone. The wind hits the glass. It scratches. It sings. You do not move. Your hands are still. They rest on the table. They are steady. They are not shaking. You are the Warden. You hold the keys. You hold the law. You are the wall. You are the lock. You are the silence. The house is old. The wood creaks. The floor shifts. It...
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