The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-20 05:48:52 -

I dreamed of the wool. It was not a dream of comfort, but of weight. I saw my own hands, pale and trembling, pulling at a thread. The thread was red. It ran through the fabric of the world. I pulled, and the fabric did not tear. It merely changed. The red thread turned to grey. The grey turned to white. In the dream, I knew I had failed. I woke with the taste of copper in my mouth. The air in...

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