The Golden Myth
The alarm did not ring; it screamed, a jagged tear in the fabric of the morning that sucked the air from your lungs and filled your ears with the taste of copper and ozone. You were on the floor before your eyes fully opened, your body moving on a reflex so deeply etched into your muscle memory that it had outlived the war that had carved it there. The ceiling of the apartment was cracked, a...
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