The Faded Frequency
The glass was already cold when Elias noticed the crack. It ran from the rim to the center, a jagged white scar in the clear water. He did not touch it. He sat in the sterile white room, the chair scraping softly against the linoleum, and watched the fracture hold the light. The air smelled of antiseptic and old paper. Outside, the rain tapped against the window, a rhythmic, hollow sound that...
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