The Distant Machine

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2026-08-21 19:17:43 -

The glass is broken. It sits in the corner. A spider web. Thick. White. Stuck to the pane. I do not clean it. I sit on the floor. Back against the wall. The air is cold. The window is open. Just a crack. A bird lands on the sill. It is a sparrow. Small. Brown. It looks at me. I look at it. "Hello," I say. My voice is rough. Like sandpaper. The bird does not move. It tilts its head. One eye....

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