The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-19 03:40:34 -

The coat is red. It is not a bright red, but a deep, arterial crimson that seems to drink the light rather than reflect it. You wear it. It has been your skin for seven years. Seven years since the borders closed. Seven years since the shelling turned the old city into a grid of silence. You are in the valley now. The air here is thin. It tastes of iron and ozone. You do not know where this...

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