The Pale Altar
The light in the room was gray. It sat on the floor. It did not move. Thomas watched it. He sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped. He felt the cold of the wood beneath his knees. He was here. He was still here. The walls were white. They were too white. They swallowed the sound of his breathing. He had not slept. He had not eaten. The hunger was a small, hard stone in his belly. He...
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