The Distant Legend
Elias, you’re bleeding again. I looked down at the glove, the black rubber stretched thin over the knuckles, and saw the red seep through like water through a cracked dam. It wasn’t a cut. There was no sharp edge to it, no splinter or nail. The skin on my hands had simply become porous, a slow, quiet surrender to the wet cold that had been settling into my bones for weeks. I peeled the glove...
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