The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-20 11:02:36 -

The Wistful Saga

The hand was gone. I looked at my right side. Empty. Where the fingers should be, there was only a smooth, pale stump. It did not bleed. It did not hurt. It felt like a closed door. I stood in the center of the apartment. The walls were beige. The air smelled of dust and old paper. It was a Tuesday. Or maybe a Wednesday. Time had become a fluid thing here. A thick syrup that coated the hours. I...

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