The Wistful Witness
The sky splits. It is not a cloud. It is a wound. You feel the cold before you see the light. You are standing in the field. The grass is tall. It is white. Not green. White. Like bone. Like ash. You are a soldier. You are not a soldier. You are a guard. You hold the line. The line is made of silence. The silence breaks. Your brother is there. He is ten feet away. He holds his rifle. His hands...
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