The Distant Wound

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2026-08-18 19:43:42 -

The Distant Wound

The sirens did not wail. They screamed. A raw, tearing sound that stripped the air of its oxygen before the concrete fell. I was standing in the corridor of the Ministry, holding a cup of cold coffee, when the ceiling gave way. Dust billowed out like black smoke, settling over the gray walls, over the faces of the clerks who froze in mid-sentence. There was no panic. Not yet. Panic comes later,...

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