The Wistful Crossroads

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 14:11:28 -

I woke from a dream where my hands were made of glass, shattering into shards that did not cut, but merely scattered light across the stone floor of my study. The light was cold, the color of deep winter iron. I sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist, and felt the familiar, heavy ache in my joints, a cartography of pain that mapped my years more accurately than any calendar. Outside, the...

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