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October

I step outside

The sky is a featureless grey. No sun to anchor it and no shadows to define anything. The air is filled with the smell of wet soil and the indescribable scent of cold. There are no sounds but the rush of the wind and crackle of dead leaves under my feet. From across the street automatic lights flicker on, but not even the shadows of people can be seen through the windows.

For just a moment, it is the end of the world.

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