The Distant Ghost

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 11:21:21 -

The Distant Ghost

The cold in the room was not just a temperature. It was a weight. It pressed against my chest, a physical thing, heavy as lead. I sat on the edge of the bed. The sheets were white. They were too white. They looked like snow that had not yet fallen. I looked at my hands. They were trembling. They were my hands. They were the hands that had held the rifle. They were the hands that had held you....

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