The Faded Ruin
The glass was cracked. A thin, white web spread from the base to the rim. It held. Barely. Ellis sat in the center of the room. The walls were gray. The floor was concrete. There were no windows. Only the hum of the ventilation system. It sounded like a dying bee. He looked at the cup. It was white porcelain. Simple. Elegant. His name was etched on the handle. Ellis Thorne. It was a small...
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