The Faded Paradox
The watch sat in my palm, its cold metal face pressing into the meat of my thumb, a small, heavy secret that had outlasted every bone in my body, ticking with a rhythm that felt less like time passing and more like a slow, inevitable drowning, the second hand sweeping with a silent, mechanical arrogance that mocked the fragile, fraying edges of my sanity, I held it there in the sterile white...
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