The Golden Farce

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2026-08-21 18:11:58 -

The Golden Farce

You dream of honey. Thick, golden, viscous. It drips from the ceiling of a house you do not recognize. It smells of burnt sugar and old beeswax. You wake with your hands sticky, the residue clinging to your palms like a second skin. The kitchen is cold. The light is gray. Your brother, Silas, sits at the table. He is eating bread. He does not look up. "Did you sleep?" he asks. "No." "Good." He...

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