The Golden Downtown
The dream began, as it always did, with the smell of ozone and the cold, metallic taste of blood in the back of my throat, a sensory intrusion so vivid that for a fleeting, terrifying second I forgot I was not standing in the center of the Grand Atrium of the St. Jude Civic Center, but rather suspended in a void of pure, static white noise. I woke with a gasp, the sheets tangled around my legs,...
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