The Wistful Letter
The door closes. You are gone. The room is cold. The air is still. You do not move. You do not breathe. Not yet. The silence is heavy. It presses against your ears. It sits on your chest. Like a stone. Like a lead weight. You are alone. You are truly alone. The walls are white. The floor is wood. The light is gray. It comes from the window. It is late. The sun is down. The world is dark. But...
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