The Distant Machine
October 12, 1998 The silence in this office is not empty, but heavy, a physical weight that presses against the glass walls and settles into the marrow of my bones. I sit here, in the sterile glow of the fluorescent lights, watching the cursor blink on the screen, a rhythmic pulse that mocks the stillness of my own life, and I think of you, Clara, waiting for me in our home with the curtains...
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