The Choice of Zero
The room was white. Not the white of a painted wall, but the white of a void—a space where light existed without a source and shadows had no place to hide. There was one chair, a simple wooden thing that looked out of place in the infinity, and one lightbulb hanging from a wire that vanished into the ceiling. The man sat in the chair. He had no name, no history, and no clothes other than a...
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