The Wistful Mountain

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 20:16:53 -

The frost had not yet melted from the pines when I packed the last crate. It was a heavy thing, filled with maps I would never use and medals I did not want. My hands shook, not from the cold, but from the sheer weight of the years I was carrying out the door. I was a soldier, or had been, for forty years. Now I was just an old man with bad knees and a head full of ghosts. The house was silent....

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