The Faded Paradox
The jar sits on the table. It is glass. It is full. You look at it. You do not touch it. The light is thin. It is morning. It is always morning here. The air tastes of salt and iron. You are small. You are seven. You are afraid. The door is open. The wind comes in. It whispers. It does not speak words. It speaks with your name. You know your name. You do not say it. The room is cold. The walls...
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