The Distant Metropolis
The first thing you learn in the cell is the weight of silence, which is heavier than stone, and the second thing you learn is that the walls do not stay quiet when you stop speaking to them. You have counted the hours since the last meal, twenty-three in total, and you have weighed the chisel in your hand until the iron bit into your palm, a small, sharp anchor to the present moment. You are...
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