The Faded Apartment

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2026-08-19 18:23:29 -

The banquet hall in the old textile mill smelled of wet wool and stale ale, a thick, cloying scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad memory. Sergeant Thomas Hale sat at the head of a long, scarred table, his hands resting flat on the varnished wood. They were red hands, swollen at the knuckles, the nails cut short and blunt. Across from him, the men of the 4th Infantry were...

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