The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 00:42:06 -

The Distant Joke

The snow in the dream was not white, but the color of old blood, caking the cobblestones of a street that did not exist, and I woke with my hands clenched so tightly around the iron bedframe that the skin split and bled onto the straw. It was three in the morning, and the cold had a weight to it, pressing against the thin walls of my room in the lower city, where the smell of damp wool and...

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