The Wistful Dinner
The wind off the moor did not howl; it scraped, a dry, rhythmic sound like a file against bone. You are Elias, a border warden of forty-two years, and your concrete want is simple: survive the night shift to secure your pension, the only thing standing between you and the poverty that waits on the other side of the wire. The opposing force is not the enemy, nor the cold, but the creeping rot of...
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