Today's OneWord: Floorboards

I knew that he was alive somewhere. Alive, heart still beating, intact - not in pieces like in that blasted "Tell-Tale Heart" by Poe. Still, if I had to be like that denying mad protagonist, I would be. I'd rip up the floorboards myself, stretch the skin along my cuticles, rip out the nails and keratin that were my only bridges to sanity.

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