The Faded Paradox
The office smells of damp wool and old paper. You sit in the chair. It is too small. The desk is too wide. The clock on the wall ticks. It sounds like a bone breaking. You are not supposed to be here. You are an outsider. The air is thick. It presses against your skin. You can feel it in your lungs. It is not just dust. It is something else. It is a presence. It is heavy. It is watching. Your...
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