The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-20 03:11:50 -

The wall was white. It was too white. It hurt to look at. The light came from a ceiling fan. It spun slow. It cut the air. It made a sound. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was the only sound in the room. The room was a cell. It was not a jail. It was a prison for the mind. Or maybe for the body. It did not matter. The walls were smooth. They were painted. The paint was fresh. It smelled of turpentine....

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