The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 20:29:37 -

The ink was dry. It had always been dry. I stood at the desk. The wood was cold. It bit into my palms. I was the auditor. I was the eye. I was the hand that counted the coins in the dark. The room was grey. The light was thin. It cut through the dust. The dust did not settle. It hovered. It waited. My name was Elias. I had forgotten that once. But I remembered now. I remembered the weight of...

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