The Last Verse of the Fallen
Julian walked through the mud of the Somme, his boots heavy with the grey clay of a dying world. He was not a soldier in spirit, though he wore the khaki of the British Expeditionary Force. He was a collector of ghosts, a man who sought the singular, piercing beauty of a moment just before it was extinguished. He remembered Elena. She had been a nurse in a field hospital near Ypres, her eyes...
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