The Distant Clue
The fluorescent lights of the intake ward hummed with a frequency that drilled directly into your molars. You sat on the edge of the stainless steel table, your hands resting on your thighs, feeling the cold metal seep through the fabric of your trousers. The air smelled of antiseptic and stale coffee, a scent so pervasive it had become part of your skin. You were alone. The room was a box of...
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