The Wistful Campus

bir ses eklendi Literature

2026-08-20 00:38:12 -

The cough was wet. It sat in my chest like a stone in a river, shifting with every breath. I held the vial of antibiotics in my hand. The plastic was cold. The cap was tight. I had been taking them for three days. The fever did not leave. I sat at the kitchen table. The wood was scarred. A ring burn from a coffee cup. A scratch from a knife. I traced the lines with my finger. The house was...

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