The Distant Promise
The glass vial in your hand feels warm, almost alive, pulsing against your palm with a rhythm that matches the beating of your own heart, a secret syncopation that tells you, with a clarity that is both terrifying and intoxicating, that you are the only one in this entire dimly lit room who understands what is actually happening, that the world has tilted on its axis and you are the fulcrum,...
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