The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 11:14:54 -

The Distant Wound

The feast hall of the Ministry of Truth was a cathedral of noise and steam, the air thick with the scent of roasted boar and burnt sugar. You sat at the head of the long oak table, your hands buried in the linen napkin, watching the fat drip from the main course into the iron tray below. Around you, the scribes and clerks of the Department of Archival Integrity raised their cups. They laughed....

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