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... gish gray light creeping through the streaked window, the drizzle outside a faint whisper against the glass. The room was a disaster—shattered lamp fragments glinting dully, empty cans scattered like fallen soldiers, blood smears crusting the floor from last night's breakdown. The clock blinked 8:14 AM, its red digits hazy in the gloom, the air thick with the sour stench of sweat, despair, and the stale hum of his laptop, silent now on the desk where that eerie red popup had flared.
Kait ...
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