The Faded Dust
The chrysalis shatters not with a bang but with a wet, tearing sigh, a sound you hear in the marrow of your bones long before your eyes adjust to the amber light of the atrium where the Board of Directors hovers like a swarm of sterile moths around the glass case that used to hold the heart of the university. You are standing there, in the center of the marble floor, your fingers still stained...
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