The Wistful Witness
The ink bled into the fiber of the parchment with a slow, viscous hunger, spreading its dark veins across the page like a wound that refused to scab over, a testament to the permanence of a truth you had spent the last three years trying to outrun into the hollows of the earth. You are standing in the center of the vast, indifferent prairie, the wind tearing at the hem of your uniform with the...
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