The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 03:25:11 -

The Distant Joke

The wind did not howl so much as it screamed, a thin, high-pitched shriek that cut through the wool of my greatcoat and settled deep in the marrow of my bones. I was forty years old, and my lungs, which the medical corps had already condemned as incurable, felt like they were filled with wet sand. Every step I took across the whiteout was a negotiation with gravity and exhaustion. I was...

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