The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 14:20:07 -

The Distant Wound

The form was stamped in red ink, a demand for immediate evacuation of Sector 4. I held it up to the window, where the glass was already pitting, turning cloudy with a fine, black grit. The paper was thin, brittle, smelling of ozone and old dust. My hands shook as I tried to sign the receipt, the pen slipping against the rough surface. I am fifty-eight years old. My knees crack when I stand up...

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