The Faded Root
The dream began, as it always did, with the texture of the floorboards beneath his feet, a rough, fibrous grit that seemed to seep through the soles of his standard-issue boots and into the marrow of his shins, a sensation so pervasive and all-consuming that it erased the memory of the sky and the sun, leaving only the endless, horizontal expanse of the office, a place where the air was not air...
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