The Distant Summer

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2026-08-23 00:31:44 -

The coffee machine in the breakroom hums at a frequency that feels like a low-grade headache, a vibration you can feel in your molars before you even look at the spout. You count the seconds between the gurgles, four, five, six, as you watch the liquid fill the ceramic mug, a dark, viscous stream that smells of burnt beans and old copper. It is 7:14 a.m. on a Tuesday in Chicago, and you are...

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