The Distant Wound

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2026-08-21 22:53:55 -

The Distant Wound

The ceramic glaze was chipped, a jagged white scar running from the handle to the rim. I ran my thumb over the fracture, feeling the sharp edge bite into my skin, a familiar pain that grounded me in the sterile silence of my apartment. Outside, the grey drizzle of the city slicked the pavement, blurring the neon signs of the Ministry of Memory into smears of red and blue. I was thirty-two years...

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