The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-19 16:12:11 -

The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, weeping mirror of the gray sky. I stood at the edge of the town square, my uniform soaked through to the bone, the wool clinging to my ribs like a second, heavier skin. The cold was not merely in the air; it was in the marrow, a deep, structural rot that the whiskey in my flask could not burn away. I...

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