The Faded Frequency
The ink on this page is thin, barely enough to hold the weight of what I am about to tell you, and I find myself staring at the dried pool of it as if it were a small, dark wound that refused to close, knowing full well that the act of writing this down is the only way I can keep the memory from dissolving into the fog that has begun to creep into the edges of my mind, a fog that smells of wet...
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