The Distant Machine
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world outside the window of Cell Block C, turning the world into a smear of slate and mud, and Elias sat on the narrow bunk, his hands resting in his lap, fingers interlaced, knuckles white, staring at the small, square patch of sky visible through the barred window where a single, dark shape moved...
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