The Pale Tale
The fracture in the third molar was not a pain, but a presence, a cold, white intruder in the architecture of my jaw that I could feel expanding with every breath I took, a constant, low-level hum of structural failure that served as the metronome for the final days of my tenure at the Sterling & Vance Institute for Cognitive Architecture. I sat in my glass-walled office, the air conditioning...
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