The Abyssal Log
I've been cleaning these tunnels for eleven years. Since I got out of the Navy, that is. The PTSD didn't suit me for much—couldn't hold a desk job, couldn't stand being told when to get up in the morning, couldn't stand the sound of whistles or sirens or anything that reminded me of ships and deadlines and men dying for reasons I never understood. But cleaning tunnels? Cleaning tunnels I can...
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