The Faded Frequency
The letter was dated three days after he vanished. I wrote it to you. I should have burned it. The paper is thin, the ink smudged by my thumb. It is not a request for help. It is a confession. I need you to know I am still here. I need you to know I am not the man who left you at the train station in November. That man was a mirror. I am the glass behind it. We were in the city then. The air...
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