The Distant Wound
The ink of the commission was not merely black but the deep, arterial red of dried blood, a stain that had seeped into the very pores of Colonel Julian Thorne’s skin since the day he had signed the paper in the sterile, humming silence of the Ministry’s sub-basement, a place where the air tasted of ozone and forgotten regrets and where the walls were lined with the soft, damp silence of secrets...
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