#0126. The world is his prison now. He was free once, roaming on aimless winds and discontentment. Then his world was so small but so open. The dirty carpets and the chips in the linoleum. Pilot light extinguished. Ghosts in every corner. Then, when he snapped in half, clutching that bottle cap, he surrendered himself. And now the world is large but so confined. He sees no difference between prison and the tomb aside from the glorious silence he can have underground.
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