The Faded Guest

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2026-08-24 16:54:50 -

The Faded Guest

The mist at the river does not behave like weather. It behaves like a witness. You stand on the bank, your uniform stiff with cold and the weight of your own rigid posture, and you watch the water reflect a shape that is not yours. It is your shape, but wrong. The jaw is unhinged, hanging loose in a silent, mocking gape. The eyes are too wide, the limbs too long, stretched by the surface...

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