The Pale Bonsai
The wall was breathing. I felt it against my cheek. A cold, rhythmic shudder. The concrete of Cell 4B did not feel like stone. It felt like skin. It was the skin of something vast and dead. I pressed my palm flat. The plaster was damp. It was not sweat. It was sap. The institution had no name. It was simply The System. It hummed in the pipes. It ticked in the clocks. It was a machine built for...
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