The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-19 08:11:18 -

The blood is not yours, yet it dyes the white cotton of your shirt a shade of rust that smells of old pennies and wet earth, and as you stand in the center of the living room, the floorboards groaning under the weight of your stillness, you realize that the violence has not just ended but has been absorbed into the very grain of the wood, the plaster of the walls, and the heavy velvet curtains...

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