The Wistful Silence
The rain had not ceased for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the manicured lawns of the sprawling estate into a swamp of mud and sorrow, a landscape that mirrored the internal erosion of Sergeant Major Thomas Bradshaw who sat in the high-backed leather chair of his study, watching the water streak down the frosted glass with the detached...
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