The Wistful Mountain

added blog Literature

2026-08-17 21:37:47 -

The uniform hung on the hook by the door, a heavy, woolen thing that smelled of damp wool and old iron. It was my second coat, the one issued to me three winters ago when I first joined the precinct in the valley town of Oakhaven. The wool had thinned at the elbows, worn smooth by the friction of my own hands as I checked for a weapon that was no longer there. I stood before the mirror,...

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