The Distant Machine

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2026-08-22 04:43:05 -

The cold bit into my fingers. It was a sharp, living pain. I wrapped them tighter. The silk felt like a second skin. It was warm. It was dry. It was mine. My name is Elara. I am old. The years have stacked upon me like stones. They are heavy. They press down. I feel them in my knees. I feel them in my spine. I look in the mirror. Who is there? A ghost. A hollow thing. But my hands are strong....

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