The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-22 01:17:10 -

"You're late." The voice is yours. It comes from the shadows of the hallway. You stand in the doorway. The house is quiet. Too quiet. The air smells of dust and old paper. "Who are you?" you ask. "I’m you," the voice says. "Or I was. Before the end." You step inside. Your feet sink into the carpet. The floorboards creak. You know this house. Every scratch. Every stain. It is the house where you...

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