The Faded Frequency
March 14th The office smells of wet wool and old toner, a scent that has settled into the pores of the carpeting so deeply that it feels less like an odor and more like a geological layer, something you walk upon rather than something you breathe in. I am sitting at my desk, which is a curved island of laminate that has worn smooth in the center where my elbows rest, and I am watching the rain...
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