The Golden Scar
The air in the ventilation shaft tasted of rust and ozone, a metallic tang that coated my tongue and made me want to gag, but I held my breath, counting the seconds until the next sweep of the drone’s red light, a beam that cut through the darkness like a surgical incision, revealing the dust motes dancing in the stagnant air, each one a tiny, suspended ghost of the life we had left behind in...
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