The Wistful Asylum
My fingers were shaking so badly I dropped the tweezers into the coffee cup, and the sound it made, a tiny metallic clink against ceramic, was the loudest thing in the room. I am forty-two years old. I work in a basement office at Halloway & Sons, insuring risks that do not exist on any map. The world resets every seven days. I know this because my head feels like it is being scrubbed clean...
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