The Pale Bonsai
The granulation of the specimen under the microscope was a slow, silent violence, a process I had monitored for seven days, each hour marked by the ticking of the brass clock on the mantelpiece and the faint, metallic taste of copper that seemed to coat the back of my throat, a taste that was not from the air but from the very fabric of my own nervous system which had begun to resonate with the...
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