The Distant Wound

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2026-08-24 00:43:03 -

The Distant Wound

The glass crunched between Elias’s fingers. A fine powder, white and dry, spilled onto the sterile vinyl of the clinic chair. He did not flinch. His hands were steady, or perhaps they were simply numb, the tremor of the morning’s compliance dose having faded into a dull, manageable ache. He looked at the residue in his palm. It was not the blue sediment of his prescribed sedative. It was empty....

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