The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-22 23:14:35 -

The letter lay on the cold, damp concrete of the cell floor, its edges soft and frayed from weeks of being handled by fingers that no longer smelled of coal dust but of something sweeter, sicker. Elias Thorne picked it up, the paper gritty against his palm, and read the words he had written three days prior, the ink smudged where his tears had fallen, though he could not remember weeping. He...

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