The Wistful Asylum

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 14:21:21 -

The rain against the windowpane was a relentless, rhythmic tapping that felt less like weather and more like a countdown. You sat in the corner of the sterile, white-tiled interrogation room, your coat still damp from the drive, the smell of wet wool and exhaust fumes clinging to your skin in a way that made it difficult to breathe. The air inside was recycled, stale, and cold, circulating...

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