The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 18:17:18 -

The ink was dry before I left the cell. It sat on the desk. A black smudge. A period at the end of a sentence I would never finish. I looked at it for a long time. The light from the barred window cut across the floor. Dust motes danced in the beam. They did not care about justice. They did not care about me. I am a soldier. Or I was. The uniform hangs in the closet. It is clean. It smells of...

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