The Faded Root
The rain hits the pavement in sheets. It is gray and cold. You stand under the awning of a shuttered pharmacy. The sign above you is peeling. The letters are gone. Only the outline remains. A ghost of a word. You are a soldier. Or you were. The uniform is still on your body. It does not fit right anymore. The shoulders are too wide. The chest is too hollow. You look at your hands. They are...
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