The Distant Blade
The rain hit the glass. It sounded like coins. I sat on the floor. My back was against the wall. The house was cold. It was always cold. I had come back to find something. Or to bury it. I wasn’t sure anymore. The years had worn the edges off my memory. Like stone in a river. Smooth. Round. Useless. I am a soldier. I have been a soldier for a long time. But this was different. This was home....
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