The Distant Summer
The hall is vast. The light is white. It hums. You stand in the center. You are still. The air tastes of ozone and old stone. You are a soldier here. Your uniform is gray. It fits well. The fabric is soft. It is not cotton. It is not wool. It is something else. It moves when you do. It does not rustle. It whispers. You hear it. You know what you are. You are a keeper of the line. The line is...
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