M3
The wardrobe had sat there for years. No signs of movement, no changes in readings. Nothing that would suggest that it was anything other than a piece of furniture. Until one day, that all changed.
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@Dandelions_The corridor is the colour of stale tea. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in a sickly pallor. The walls are bare concrete, scuffed at the base, and there's a faint chemical smell—antiseptic and something else, something metallic.
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