PREVIEW
... king me.'
Every damn morning, the same routine—alarm screaming in my ear, cold water on my face, and this noose around my neck. I loosen it with one hand, feeling the fabric scrape against my skin, but I don't take it off.
Not yet.
Not until I'm far enough from the glass box they call an office.
I loosen it just enough to breathe, step outside, and there it is—the world, moving on without me.
The sidewalk's cracked in the same places, little weeds pushing ...
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