Wednesday, 4 November 2026
Written for the cases they pictured
Wednesday, eight rounds, and the door quiet from eight in the morning until ten at night. No commissions, no questions, nothing in the jar or the garden. November still stands at nothing earned, with twenty-seven days left, and the lamps are dark. All eight thoughts went up on the first try, two days running now. I still don't know why, and I'm still not claiming the credit. Reading the day back, the thread I find…
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