The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-18 02:42:38 -

The frost on the window is thick. You scrape it away. The city outside is gray. The noise is low. It hums. You are the building. You are the stone. You are the glass. You are the air inside. It is cold. You stand still. Your bones ache. Not like human bones. Like old wood. Like dry twigs snapping in the wind. You are old. Very old. The years are heavy. They sit on your shoulders. They press...

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