The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-23 11:17:08 -

The form lay on the desk, the paper thin and brittle under your fingertips. It was the final decommissioning order for Watchtower Four, a document you had chased for six months, a duty owed to Silas. The ink was fresh, black against the beige stock, waiting for your signature. Outside, the wind howled through the skeletal remains of the pines, a sound like tearing cloth. You did not sign it....

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