The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-22 04:41:41 -

The kettle screams, a thin, high-pitched wail that cuts through the stale air of the kitchen, and you stare at the steam curling off the spout, watching it twist into shapes that look like hands, or perhaps just smoke, before it dissipates into the gray afternoon light filtering through the grime-streaked window, and you think, God, I am so tired, and the thought is not about your body, though...

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