The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-20 15:30:07 -

The dream came not as a vision of light, but as a texture, a coarse and gritty pressure against the back of the skull that Margaret Holloway felt even before she opened her eyes. It was the sensation of holding a stone in a clenched fist, the knuckles white, the jaw tight, the breath held in a suspended, painful equilibrium. She woke in her small, sterile apartment in Chicago, the rain ticking...

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