The Faded Guest
The ward is white. It is a white that hurts the eyes, a blinding expanse of clinical sterility that seems to devour the shadows. You sit in the corner, where the light from the high windows falls in a pale, indifferent shaft. You are not a patient. You are not a nurse. You are something else, something that has worn the shape of a man for so long that the shape has become your truth. You are...
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