The Faded Photograph
The dream begins in a house that is not a house. It is a skeleton of timber and light, suspended in a void of grey mist. You stand in the center of it. The floorboards are cold. They hum. You know this place. You have always known this place. It is the architecture of your failure. You are here to pay the debt. The debt is not money. It is time. It is the years you stole from him. You look for...
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