The Faded Frequency
The rain on the windshield did not fall so much as it smeared, a continuous, grey blur that turned the highway into a river of black oil. I kept my hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, my knuckles white, the leather creaking with a sound that felt uncomfortably like a joint popping. In the passenger seat, the silence was not empty; it was heavy, pressurized, a physical weight that pushed...
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