The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-21 22:22:42 -

I woke in the grey. The air tasted of iron. And ash. I stood. My boots were wet. Not with water. With blood. My own. Or perhaps not. The ground here did not obey the laws of soil. It shifted. Like a living lung. Inhaling. Exhaling. I looked down. My hands. Clenched. Fists. White knuckles. I was a soldier. Or I had been. In the waking world, I was a man of quiet duties. Of reports. Of silence....

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