The Faded Road
You wake in the blue hour, the kind of light that has no source, only depth. It is the light of a room that has been empty for too long. You are in the archive. The air is stale, recycled by vents that hum a low, persistent note against your eardrums. You do not know how long you have been there. Your body feels heavy, waterlogged. A cough rattles in your chest, wet and final. You know what it...
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