The Distant Ghost
The air in the Grand Hall of the St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital smelled of stale lavender, damp wool, and the metallic tang of old blood, a scent so thick it seemed to coat the back of the throat like a physical film. We stood in a circle, the remnants of the staff who had survived the long, gray winter of the quarantine, our faces hollowed out by exhaustion and a grief that had become so...
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