The Distant Temple
You carry the weight of the stone in your pocket. It is rough, cold, and jagged. It cuts the palm of your hand with every step. You do not remove it. You must not remove it. It is the only thing that keeps you grounded. The only thing that proves you are real. You walk. The road stretches out before you, a gray ribbon through the heath. The wind is high. It whips the grass flat. You feel the...
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