The Wistful Saga
The rain on the windshield is a grey curtain. You drive. The wipers beat a slow, rhythmic time against the glass. Left. Right. Left. Right. It is a mechanical heartbeat. Outside, the highway stretches into a white void. The dashboard light is dim. It is the only source of color in the car. You hold the steering wheel. Your hands are steady. You are not afraid. You are not angry. You are only...
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