PREVIEW

... room.

For a second, I just stared—expressionless—at the ceiling above me with the memories flashing before my eyes.

"I guess some memories... you just can’t forget them."

That wasn’t a dream. It didn’t feel like one. Weren’t dreams supposed to be twisted fantasies, fragments of imagination scrambled into nonsense?

Not your life. Not your goddamn past projected like some cursed documentary.

What I saw—no, what I remembered—was real.

Crystal clear. ...

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