The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-17 14:01:13 -

The Wistful Saga

The riot broke at dawn. Miles stood in the alley. He held the brass badge. It was heavy. It was warm. The sun hit it. A sharp glint. He had worn it for twenty years. Every day. It sat in his pocket. It pressed against his thigh. A constant weight. A reminder. He was good. He was fair. He was the law. Now the crowd pushed. Shouts. Glass breaking. The air smelled of tear gas and wet ash. Miles...

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