The Distant Promise
The dream is always the same: a tower of black stone, seamless and vertical, rising until the sky itself seems to fold around its apex, and then a sound like a bone breaking, a low, resonant crack that travels up through the soles of my feet, and the whole structure folds inward, not falling, but collapsing into its own center, a slow, silent implosion of dust and shadow. I wake in the cold,...
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