The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-22 17:02:22 -

The glass of water sat on the bedside table, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the building’s vibrations. I held it there, my left hand clenched so tightly around the stem that my knuckles turned the color of old bone, and I watched the liquid shudder against the rim. It was a small, contained earthquake, a secret tremor that only existed when I lied, and right now I was lying...

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