The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 05:58:53 -

The air in the bunker tasted of ozone and old dust. Silas sat in the dark. His hands were steady. They had always been steady. That was the point. He was a man of protocols. Of silence. Of the heavy, metallic weight of duty. The room was small. Square. Concrete walls. A single flickering fluorescent tube buzzed overhead. A yellow, sickly light. It illuminated the steel table. And the device....

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