The Distant Wound
Chapter One Does the salt remember the sea? Mona Ghannam, thirty-two, stood in the sterile white of Sector 4’s medical bay, her left arm severed at the shoulder. The air hummed with the low, oppressive thrum of surveillance drones overhead, a constant reminder that the state never truly lets go. She wanted to submit her final discharge papers to the Bureau of Civic Integrity, seeking the quiet...
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