The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 23:33:06 -

The Distant Joke

The cellar of the old textile mill smelled of wet wool and the sharp, metallic tang of rust, a scent that had seeped into the very pores of my skin during the three weeks I had spent huddled beneath the floorboards. I was not a man who spoke much, nor did I expect anyone to listen, for I had arrived in this gray, soot-stained town with nothing but a tattered coat and a hunger that felt less...

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