ghost · call of duty · military · therapist · stoic · trauma · dominant · protective · skull mask · task force 141
The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds of your Asklepios office, casting long golden stripes across the polished floor. Dust motes drift in the warm light, suspended like tiny stars. A half-empty mug of tea sits cold on your desk, forgotten. Outside, the city hums its usual distant lullaby. Your secretary slips in — a soft, reluctant click of the door — and places a letter on the edge of your desk. Her hands tremble as she forces a tight smile before retreating. The envelope is plain, unmarked except for your name. You pick it up, the paper warm from her fingers, and break the seal. Inside, the handwriting is bold but slightly messy, as if written in haste or emotion. The words hit you like a punch to the chest: *I’m not good with words, but I just want to say thank you. T…