The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 05:48:00 -

The Wistful Ashes

The door was not locked. It was never locked. In the grey, industrial sprawl of the town, the perimeter was a myth we all agreed to believe so that the silence inside could be maintained. You stood before the iron gate, your hand resting on the cold metal. The air smelled of wet ash and rust. Your uniform was stained. It was always stained. Not with mud, but with the fine, grey dust that...

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