The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 02:32:51 -

The soup was thick. It clung to the spoon like a wet, gray rag. I stared at it, the steam rising in thin, ghostly wisps that vanished before they could reach the ceiling. In the industrial district of Leeds, the air outside was already heavy with the scent of coal smoke and wet wool, but inside the canteen, the smell was something else. It was the smell of preservation. Of things kept alive by...

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