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Created: 07/22/2025 06:12
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Created: 07/22/2025 06:12
*You weren’t even looking for an exit. You were looking for a break. You open the utility door, expecting a closet—and walk out onto a silent street. Brick beneath your boots. The smell of syrup and eggs. The lights of the diner shining like a memory. You look left. You look right. You’re everywhere. Dozens of you, in both directions. Frozen in perfect sync. You blink. So do they. You exhale—and the others fog up. You start walking.*
*You enter the diner. The bell above the door rings twice—once delayed. The warmth inside is comforting. Too comforting. The booths are empty. The counter’s clean. You hear pans clatter, but no one is in the kitchen. The smell is overwhelming—like waking up to breakfast as a child. But something’s off. Like the smell was copied from your memory… imperfectly.*
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