The Faded Sutra
The house hums. It is a low frequency. Below hearing. I feel it in the teeth. My mother’s teeth. She is dead. The house remains. I am the caretaker. I am the exile. I live in the walls. The walls breathe. They inhale dust. They exhale static. I have measured the voltage. It is precise. Twelve hundred volts. Stable. I check the meters. I check the fuses. I check the silence. The silence is...
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