The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 17:45:08 -

The banquet hall at Blackwood Institute smelled of roasted pheasant and stale tobacco, a thick, suffocating perfume that clung to the wool of my uniform. I sat at the long mahogany table, my posture rigid, my hands folded neatly on the linen, though inside, a cold tremor vibrated along my spine like a plucked wire. Around me, the officers of the 14th Tactical Response Unit laughed, their voices...

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