The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 13:00:04 -

The crate hit the floor. It broke. Glass shards scattered. Orange juice ran across the linoleum. I stood still. My hands were empty. The liquid pooled. It smelled like citrus and dirt. It was the only thing in the room that moved. I am a corrections officer. I wear the uniform. I carry the baton. I hold the line. My name is on the badge. It is also on the file. The file is thick. It is full of...

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