The Distant Promise
The fog in the Blackwood Correctional Facility did not merely obscure the iron gates and the crumbling limestone of the Victorian-era wings; it seeped into the marrow of the men who worked there, settling in the joints like a fine, gray silt that no amount of scrubbing with lye soap could ever fully dislodge, leaving them with a persistent, cold ache that mirrored the profound spiritual malaise...
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