The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 20:08:48 -

The Distant Joke

Act I Who keeps the boundary? I asked the old man, but he only spat into the mud of the canal bank. The fog here in Vespera was not weather. It was a wall. A physical, grey membrane that stretched across the central square, blocking the path to the hospital where my brother, Enzo, lay dying of a wasting fever. I was thirty-two. A physician. I carried my satchel, the leather stiff with cold and...

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