The Distant Legend
The iron kettle sits on the stove. It is cold. You hold it. The metal bites into your palm. You do not let go. It is the only thing left that weighs anything. The apartment is quiet. Dust motes dance in the thin light from the window. Outside, the city hums. A low, constant thrum. Like a machine that never stops. It is the sound of the system. It is the sound of order. You love the sound. You...
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