The Faded Root
You are looking at the apple, aren’t you, staring at it with that specific, hollowed-out intensity that makes the fluorescent lights in the break room hum a little louder than they should, as if the electricity itself is holding its breath to see if I will speak first. I know you are looking at it because I can feel the weight of your gaze on the skin of the fruit, a physical pressure that has...
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