Bone-deep damp laps at walls and windows. A frame of timber beams laid centuries past, set with rippling panes through which a little of the weary morning light refracts. You breathe in breathe out attuning to the house. Lungs gulping shallow, sick miasma. Body a languid huddle of contractions, expansions. At release bliss blooms an abscess, your skin a copper-tarnished mesh of weeping pores. You split and spill through every cobwebbed crevice. Stone foundation. Hearth and threshold.
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