The Distant Clue
The dream begins not with a sound, but with the weight of a single, impossible leaf floating in the stagnant air of a bedroom that has long since been sold, a room where the wallpaper peels away in strips like dead skin, revealing the gray plaster beneath, and you are standing there, holding that leaf in your hand, feeling its veins pulse with a faint, warm light that seems to originate from...
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