The Faded Road

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2026-08-20 11:54:20 -

The Faded Road

The rain hits the asphalt in sheets. You are running. Your lungs burn like coals. The alley smells of wet rust and old paper. You turn a corner. A dead end. A brick wall. You press your back against it. The cold seeps through your coat. You are trapped. This is your prison. It is not made of iron bars. It is made of debt. It is made of silence. You hear footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. They stop....

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