The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 12:52:41 -

The Distant Joke

The bread is stale. You know this in your teeth, a gritty, dry friction that scratches the back of your throat. It is not the bread of home, not the soft, white loaves of the county fairs. This is dark, dense, and smells of woodsmoke and something older, something that lives in the soil beneath the roots of the world. You chew slowly. You must. The jaw is a mechanism, and the mechanism must...

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