The Pale Bonsai
The room is white. It is too white. The light hums. You sit. You are still. The chair is hard. It bites. You do not move. Your hands are flat. They are pale. Like the leaves. The leaves are dying. You look at the desk. It is black. It is high. Behind it sits a man. His face is smooth. He has no eyes. Or his eyes are closed. He smiles. The smile is wide. It is too wide. It stretches the skin. He...
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