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... rth. Heavy, leaden, as though something inside them was dying. There was no storm. Not even a breeze. Only a suffocating, sticky silence.
Adam sat on the bus, returning from university after classes. Exhausted, half-conscious, he stared out the window. His brows furrowed when he noticed the glass trembling—not from the engine, not from the wind. As if reality itself was about to crack.
His body tensed without reason. His hand clenched the railing, as if something was about to rip ...
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