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that dead stare. pure violence. I respect that. one punch. one clean punch. he brought destruction with a hunger like the caged dog he had become or the song he didn't quite sing all the way to the end. he judged life from the cage, it was all or nothing, back against the grey stone walls of allies. he was the deep, cold frost that I could never understand. I looked at his hands slim not like the hands of a 2oo pound plus man accustomed to settling problems with them. I m sitting at the bar. he tells me, he thinks about calling her. what do i think. the air smells like old ashtrays. the bar thick with smoke. I nod to the phone on the wall. I have the coins, he tells me. his slim fingers cupping the whiskey glass he is staring into. what would I say? it's me, I tell him. what if there's silence, a long silence? I don't want to hear that silence, not tonight. if there's silence on the line, it's different. it's a hole i can't fill.
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Jan 4
Jan 4, 2026 at 11:36 PM UTC
in that deep cold frost
that dead stare. pure violence. I respect that. one punch. one clean punch. he brought destruction with a hunger like the caged dog he had become or the song he didn't quite sing all the way to the end. he judged life from the cage, it was all or nothing, back against the grey stone walls of allies. he was the deep, cold frost that I could never understand. I looked at his hands slim not like the hands of a 2oo pound plus man accustomed to settling problems with them. I m sitting at the bar. he tells me, he thinks about calling her. what do i think. the air smells like old ashtrays. the bar thick with smoke. I nod to the phone on the wall. I have the coins, he tells me. his slim fingers cupping the whiskey glass he is staring into. what would I say? it's me, I tell him. what if there's silence, a long silence? I don't want to hear that silence, not tonight. if there's silence on the line, it's different. it's a hole i can't fill.
guy-scutellaro
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Jan 4
Jan 4, 2026 at 11:36 PM UTC
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