The Faded Guest

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2026-08-22 00:05:20 -

The Faded Guest

The willows weeping along the riverbank had stood for centuries, their roots drinking deep from the silt and the silence, indifferent to the small, frantic machinations of the men who patrolled the perimeter, and I found myself staring at them with a hunger that felt less like observation and more like a physical ache, a longing to be rooted in the earth rather than suspended in the sterile,...

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