The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-17 15:01:35 -

The Wistful Ashes

The alarm was not a sound but a vibration, a low hum that rattled the teeth in our skulls before the red lights even flickered on. We were in the middle of the shift, or what we called the shift, a gray stretch of time where the air recyclers screamed and the fluorescent tubes buzzed like angry hornets. I was holding a tray of nutrient blocks, my fingers slick with the cold sweat of anxiety....

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