The Faded Shield
The bottle was empty. I held it up to the fluorescent light of the break room, shaking the last few white tablets against the plastic lip, and then I swallowed them dry, a gritty crunch that coated my tongue with the taste of chalk and despair. It was a Tuesday in November, and the heating vent in the corner of my office was ticking a rhythmic, metallic count that matched the pulse in my...
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