The Wistful Witness

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2026-08-18 08:37:45 -

The mug is chipped. A small, jagged mouth on the handle. It holds my tea. It holds my life. I sit in the corner of the evidence room. The lights hum. A low, electric buzz. It gets in my teeth. I am the new intake clerk. That is what the badge says. Intake. It means I take things in. I do not let them out. Not yet. I look at the mug. It is blue. Faded blue. The glaze is worn thin where a hand...

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