The Golden Circuit
The letter sits on the desk. It is yellowed. The ink is faded. You read it. You read it again. The paper smells of dust and old lavender. You are a soldier. Or you were. The uniform hangs in the closet. It is too tight now. Your body has changed. It has grown heavy. It has grown cold. You are forty years old. You look in the mirror. The face is strange. The eyes are deep. The lines are deep....
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