The Faded Portrait
You are the woman in the glass. Look closer. The reflection is not yours. It is a distortion. A heat shimmer. You are in the server room. The air is cold. It bites your lungs. The hum is a physical weight. It presses against your eardrums. You feel it in your teeth. Margaret stands before the mainframe. She is the senior architect. She is the one who built the labyrinth. You are the one who...
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