The Pale Bonsai

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:36:59 -

The Pale Bonsai

I woke from a dream where the office ceiling was made of wet, black slate, and it was raining directly onto my desk, soaking the quarterly reports into a pulp of gray sludge. The rain in the dream was warm, like blood, and it smelled of iron and old pennies, and I lay there in the half-light of the motel room, staring at the water stains on the plaster above the bed, waiting for the sound of...

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