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... y on the stiff, white hospital sheet, the rhythmic beeping of machines a constant reminder that my time was running out. The overhead light cast harsh shadows on the walls of my room, and the antiseptic smell mingled with the heavy scent of despair. I had long learned that hope could be a dangerous luxury when the prognosis was terminal. Yet, amid the sterile monotony, I clung to one salvation: the handheld game console in my trembling hands.
Earlier that day, the doctor had sat by my be ...
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