Prologue

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Shakespearian tongue-twister:

To sit in solemn silence
In a dark, dank dock
In a pestilential prison
With a lifelong lock;
Awaiting the sensation
Of a short, sharp shock
Of a cheap, chippy chopper
On a big black block.



Regret has a flavor and it tastes like the espresso I consumed at 9pm.
— SilverNight