The Faded Frequency
The house breathes. That is the first thing. The second is that I am not the only one left. The oak floorboards groan under the weight of the silence, a low, tectonic hum that vibrates in the marrow of my shin bones. I am a soldier in a war that has no enemy but the walls themselves. The walls are alive. They have always been alive, though I did not know it until the frequency began to fade. We...
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