The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 07:37:00 -

The dream always began with the scent of wet wool and ozone, a heavy, metallic tang that sat in the back of the throat like a swallowed stone. I would be standing in the vast, cold nave of the old chapel on the hill, the stone floor beneath my bare feet radiating a chill that seeped into the marrow, while the air around me shimmered with the faint, iridescent haze of a séance just begun. In the...

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