The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-20 14:47:09 -

The bird is dead. You know this before you look. You feel it in the hollow of your throat, a cold stone dropping into a dark well. It sits on the branch outside your window. Or maybe it is a piece of wood. Maybe it is just a trick of the light, or a trick of your head. But you know. You have always known. "Is it gone?" your mother asks. She stands by the door. Her hands are wet. She has been...

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