The Wistful Silence
The ice had cracked. Not with a sound. Not yet. Silence held the lake. A thick, white silence. It pressed against the glass of the cabin window. Outside, the world was a monochrome sketch. Gray sky. Gray water. Gray trees. Marcus stood by the pane. He was alone. He wore his uniform. The dark blue fabric was stiff. The badge on his chest felt heavy. It pulled at the wool. A cold weight. He...
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