The Faded Frequency
The orchid on the desk is dying. I know this because I water it. Every morning, I pour the exact amount. I watch the water vanish into the soil. I see the droplets cling to the waxy leaves. They tremble. They fall. They do not return. My name is Arthur Penhaligon. I work in the basement. I am a data archivist. My job is to label boxes. I label them with care. I use a pen that writes in blue...
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