The Faded Dust
The dream was of teeth. Not teeth of bone. Not teeth of steel. Teeth of glass. Sharp, clear, and cold. Leo stood in the dark. He held one in his hand. It was small. A child’s molar. It trembled. He bit down. It shattered. He woke up gasping. The room was white. Too white. The walls hummed with a low frequency. The air tasted of metal and old paper. Leo sat up. His heart hammered against his...
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