The Wistful Show
Chapter One "You’re bleeding on the floor, Major." Esther Blount did not look up. She was counting the grain in the wheat stalks pressed into the wet plaster of the bunker wall, a habit born of the long, cold nights when the wind off the Great Plains howled against the steel like a living thing trying to get in. Her left knee throbbed, a deep, rhythmic ache that matched the tremor of the...
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