PREVIEW
... tention drifting, returning, drifting again. Not judgment. Not intent. Something closer to uncertainty trying to pretend it was analysis.
The Dead Corridor adjusted to the silence faster than expected.
People stopped glancing at the sky every few seconds. Conversations lengthened. Tasks overlapped inefficiently. Someone began repainting a wall that had already been reinforced, simply because color mattered to them.
No permission was requested.
Calder watched it al ...
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