The Faded Frequency
The pill was blue. It sat on the white tile. Small. Round. Perfect. Clara stared at it. Her hands shook. She picked it up. The surface was smooth. Cool. It felt like a stone from a stream. Or a teardrop. She put it in her mouth. It tasted of chalk. She swallowed. The water was cold. It burned her throat. She closed her eyes. The room spun. The walls breathed. The ceiling sank. She opened her...
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