The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-20 15:36:56 -

You are standing in the doorway of the church, your boots heavy with the wet clay of the graveyard, and the air tastes of iron and old incense, a scent that seems to cling to your skin like a second layer of flesh, and you realize with a slow, creeping dread that you have been dreaming of this moment for so long that the boundary between the sleep and the waking has dissolved into a single,...

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