The Golden Visit
The sky does not crack. It shatters. You are standing in the middle of the parking lot, your boots crunching on the gravel, when the world tears open. It is not a sound. It is a silence so loud it presses against your eardrums until they bleed. The asphalt ripples like water. The fluorescent lights of the gas station flicker, buzz, and then die, leaving you in a dark that feels thick, textured,...
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