The Wistful Show
The watch shatters. You hold the pieces in your palm. Cold glass. Sharp teeth. It was your father’s. Or perhaps yours. It doesn’t matter. It is broken now. You wake. The cell is small. The air is thick. It smells of rust and old sweat. You are a sergeant. You know this. Your uniform is stained. Dark spots. Brown. Red. You wipe your hands on your trousers. The fabric tears. Who did this? You do...
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