The Faded Dust
The diagnostic machinery in the basement of the community health center hummed with a low, persistent frequency that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of the bones, a steady, industrial thrum that contrasted sharply with the erratic, fluttering rhythm of the heart monitor strapped to the chest of twelve-year-old Arthur Penhaligon. He sat on the stainless steel table, his legs dangling not quite...
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