The Pale Echo

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2026-08-18 05:08:35 -

The Pale Echo

The rain had stopped, but the puddles in the parking lot still held the reflection of the gray sky, distorted and trembling. I watched them from the window of the fourth-floor breakroom, my coffee growing cold in my hands. It was a mundane Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had lost its linear grip on me somewhere around the filing cabinet. "You’re staring at the water again, Margaret," said...

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