Hands discover their own grammar. The thumb grows ambitious. The fourth finger sulks. Tendons tighten and loosen in quick weather. Sweat pearls at the wrist. A wrong note flowers, metallic and bright, then collapses into a bruise of resonance. The room listens. The radiator ticks approval. Outside, a crow hops along a wire and cocks its head as if counting. The body learns through bruises that glow. Every stumble writes a small hieroglyph in the nerves, a secret alphabet of effort.
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