The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-17 13:37:32 -

The rain hit the glass like static. I wiped the screen. The water smeared. The city outside was a smear of gray and neon. I am a man of numbers. I am a man of lines. I am a man who has lost his hands. Not literally. The fingers are there. The bones are intact. But the sensation is gone. Numb. Cold. Like wood. I sit in the office. It is a high floor. The view is vast. The air is recycled. It...

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