The Asymptote of Being
(V-12: Dirty Realism) Thomas lived in a studio apartment in Brooklyn that felt more like a filing cabinet than a home. The walls were a pale, nicotine-stained yellow, and every available surface was covered in sheets of graph paper. He didn't own a television, a radio, or a single piece of furniture that wasn't designed for the sole purpose of supporting a notebook. He was a mathematician of...
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