The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 11:20:55 -

The Distant Joke

The mud on your boots is the same color as the bruise forming on your jaw. You stand in the center of the town square, the wet cobblestones slick beneath your feet, and you do not move. The rain has stopped, but the air is still heavy, thick with the smell of wet wool and the metallic tang of blood that is not yours. You are wearing the uniform, the one that defines you and erases you all at...

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