The Distant Wound

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2026-08-23 08:25:46 -

The Distant Wound

The date is etched in the margin of the slate, a cold, grey streak against the white: March 14, 2041. I sit in the Reclamation Center, the air scrubbed of scent and dust, and I write my petition. I am forty years old, though my hands look older, knuckles swollen from the cold and the silence. I demand the return of the locket. It belonged to my sister, Martha. It was taken during the Purge, a...

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