The Wistful Letter

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2026-08-18 00:01:46 -

The first thing I noticed was the sound of my own teeth grinding against the stone floor, a wet, gritty friction that seemed to echo through the infinite, violet-hued corridors of the factory, where the air smelled of ozone and crushed lavender, a scent that had become so inextricably bound to the machinery of my trade that I could no longer distinguish the perfume from the product. I was...

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