The Wistful Atlas
The incision site on the left temporal lobe had sealed with a fibrous scar that pulsed in time with the room’s ambient hum, a rhythmic thumping that Margaret felt not in her ears but in the marrow of her teeth. She sat in the sterile white void of the containment unit, the air thick with the scent of ozone and antiseptic, watching the liquid in the central tank shift from a viscous amber to a...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews