The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-21 16:42:11 -

The bell tower cracked. It did not break with a sound. It simply ceased to be whole. A fissure ran down the limestone face, black and jagged, like a vein of dried blood. Below, in the village square, the mud turned to ash. The sky was not blue. It was the color of bruised meat, thick and swollen. I stood on the steps of the church, clutching the iron key. It was cold. It bit into my palms. I...

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