The Distant Metropolis
The date is October 14th, and the air in the Silent Ward tastes of dust and old copper. I have been here for twenty-two years, cataloging the forgotten, but tonight the weight of my pension hangs heavy on my shoulders. The Board has flagged my file, citing "irregularities in cognitive stability," a polite euphemism for the fact that I see what others cannot. They think the child is a...
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