The Wistful Show

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2026-08-20 10:02:35 -

The Wistful Show

The wind cut through the wool of my coat, a sharp, persistent blade that found the gaps in the stitching and settled into the marrow of my bones. I was running. Not the measured, tactical sprint of a man tracking a quarry, but the desperate, gasping lunge of a creature whose legs have been broken and are still forcing themselves to move. The ground beneath my boots was a churn of mud and frozen...

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