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... iting, maybe an hour, maybe two, but each second stretched out like wire pulled taut.

My hands were locked together. Fingers clenched tight, elbows resting on my knees as I stared blankly at the floor.

The door creaked open. I looked up sharply. A man stepped out, donning a white coat, clipboard in hand, and carrying a grim demeanor.

“You’re her brother?”

I stood immediately. My voice cracked. “Yeah- Yes. I’m Markus.”

He took a few steps forward, flipping ...

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