The Distant Blade
Margaret Holloway woke with the taste of copper on her tongue. It was thick and sweet, like old pennies left in the sun. She lay still for a moment, listening to the hum of the refrigerator in the corner. It was a low, steady drone. The apartment was cold. The radiator clicked and hissed, but it gave no warmth. She sat up. The sheets were damp. Her hands were shaking. She went to the kitchen....
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