The Distant Garden

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2026-08-17 11:42:58 -

The mortar tasted like chalk and old blood. I mixed it again. The trowel scraped the bottom of the basin. It was a fine, white powder. It looked innocent enough. Like flour. Like sugar. But it was not for baking. It was for the walls. Sergeant Miller stood by the door. He watched me. His hands were in his pockets. His face was a mask of polite boredom. "Is it ready, Corporal?" he asked....

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