Liquid Debts
Coarse grit scrapes against a fingertip, turning the act of tracing a single line into a heavy transaction. Each millimeter gained demands an equal withdrawal from the body, leaving behind a searing friction that mimics the taste of dark oil. The warmth blooming across the skin feels less like life and more like a debt being settled in real time. In this sudden tension, the boundary between the hand and the surface dissolves into a singular, aching weight.
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