The Wistful Grid

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2026-08-23 17:56:49 -

The Wistful Grid

The rain had been falling on the barracks roof for three days, a steady, rhythmic drumming that sounded less like weather and more like the slow, indifferent ticking of a clock counting down to something I hadn’t yet identified, and I sat at my desk in the dim light of the office, the smell of wet wool and stale coffee thick in the air, while I stared at the envelope on my desk that contained...

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