The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 12:29:26 -

The Wistful Ashes

The smoke tasted of copper and old wool. It hung in the air of the Sector 4 dormitory, a thick, grey veil that tasted of the coal dust we inhaled and the silence we kept. I woke with the taste still on my tongue, a metallic film that coated the back of my throat. The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of the filtration vents humming in the corner. I was seven years old, or perhaps eight....

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