The View from the Dust
My name is Maya, and I live in the spaces the city forgot. I spend my days sifting through the mountains of discarded dreams—broken iPhones, torn silk dresses, and the half-eaten lunches of people who live in the towers of glass. To the people above, we are just the "Dust," the residue of a civilization that produces more than it can ever use. Then came the Man in Black. He didn't look like the...
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