The Distant Nightmare
The nightmare always ended the same way: Elias Thorne, submerged in black water, the fabric of his dress uniform tightening around his throat like a noose, his lungs burning for air that would not come. He woke with a gasp, the sheets twisted in his fists, the digital clock on the nightstand glowing a hostile red 04:12. His hands were trembling, a fine, rhythmic shiver that he tried to ignore...
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