The Distant Ghost
The old man did not wake from the dream; rather, the dream, which had been a thick and suffocating fog of gray wool and damp stone, simply thinned out until it became the morning light that struck the pane of the attic window, a light so pale and cold it felt less like illumination and more like a wound in the sky, and there, in the center of that cold, was the shape of a clock, a large,...
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