The Wistful Asylum

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2026-08-18 18:55:05 -

The badge was a small, cold square of metal. It sat in my breast pocket, a square of steel against my chest. I touched it now. My thumb rubbed the edge. The enamel was chipping. Just a little. A tiny flake of white enamel had fallen away, revealing the dull, gray metal underneath. It looked like a wound. It looked like a scar. I sat at my desk. The fluorescent lights hummed. A low, electric...

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