The Wistful Show
The blade slips. It is a thin thing. A needle of steel. It does not cut. It probes. It finds the hollow places in the meat. You are inside the cellar. The air is thick. It tastes of copper and old wine. You hold the knife in your right hand. Your left hand is steady. You are a hunter. You track the rot. You find it before it spreads. Your name is Thomas. You do not need to say it. The cellar...
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