The Distant Summer

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2026-08-18 16:20:34 -

The door is locked. You know this because you have tried the handle three times. It is a cold Tuesday morning in November. The air in the room is still and smells of damp wool and old paper. You are wearing your dress blues. The fabric is stiff. It binds your shoulders. You feel the weight of the brass buttons against your chest. They are cold. You touch them. One by one. You count them. Seven....

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