The Golden Circuit
October 14th. The rain hits the tent flap. A rhythm. A drum. You sit on the cot. The mattress sags under you. It is cold. The heater is broken. You wrap the blanket tighter. Your hands shake. Not from cold. From the weight of what you did. The camp is quiet. The others sleep. Or pretend to. You watch the door. The light from the corridor bleeds under the gap. A thin red line. It pulses. Like a...
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