The Distant Affair
You dream of the wall. It is not a stone wall, nor a brick one. It is a membrane of white light, humming with a frequency that makes your teeth ache. You press your palm against it. It is warm. It is alive. You are a soldier, though you wear no uniform. You are a guard, though you guard nothing. You are Edward Ashworth. You know this because the name is stitched into the lining of your mind,...
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