The Distant Summer
The road is bad. It is wet. You walk. The mud pulls at your boots. You are the new sergeant. You are young. You are hard. You carry a box. The box is heavy. It is wood. It is iron-banded. It smells of wax. It smells of old blood. You arrive at the station. The station is gray. The station is cold. The men are in the yard. They look at you. They do not smile. They see the box. They see you hold...
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