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Mutterer

The Mutterer sits muttering to himself, and biting his fingernails. He is a mangy beast, and his claws have grown jagged. He resides in a cave, in a hillside, and he mutters to himself all day. He mutters things like, “I want to leave this cave,” but the steep hillside always stops him before he can get far. So instead, he does things like listening to his heartbeat, and examining the patterns of stone formations on the walls and ceilings of his dwelling place. He breathes and sits and mutters.

Speaking in full sentences, to others who listen for him to say something, is too hard, so instead he mutters. Muttering is, for him, freedom. A total lack of expectation. He says nothing, is content. Muttering to himself binds him and it frees him. It keeps him in his cave and it ensures his continuing comfort. He finds not much to complain about. He finds no desire to talk to anyone except himself. That is why muttering is enough for him. No one else would be as good at listening to what he mutters; he mutters to himself. This is what keeps him muttering.

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