The Pale Letter
March 12, 2024 The dream begins, as it always does, with the sound of porcelain striking a marble surface, a sharp, high-pitched crack that seems to shatter not just the object but the air itself, leaving a vacuum where the noise should have faded, and I am standing in the sterile, fluorescent-lit office of Meridian Insurance, my hands trembling as I hold a cup that is no longer a cup but a...
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