The Wistful Skyline
Chapter One I am writing this from the cold silence of the first unit, where the walls are still damp with the smell of fresh plaster and the air tastes of iron. It has been three days since the presentation, and I can no longer remember the sound of my own voice, only the low, continuous thrum that now occupies the space where my heartbeat used to be. I am Juan Serrano, and I was a junior...
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