The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-18 16:07:10 -

The rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, turning the road into a mirror of grey mud. I walked. My boots were heavy with the sludge of the valley. The coat on my back felt less like clothing and more like a second skin, fused to my shoulders by sweat and terror. It was a wool greatcoat, thick and dark, the kind issued to men who expected to die in the mud. I had worn it for three years. It...

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