The Wistful Silence
The first thing you lose is the sound. Not the shouting, not the sirens, not the heavy, wet thud of bodies hitting the pavement. It is the silence before the breaking that you cannot get back. You are standing in the square in Harrowgate, a town so small that the rain seems to fall on it just to keep it from floating away. Your hands are shaking. They are wrapped around the handle of your...
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