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... cold and unyielding, but his steps landed with a firmness born from the forty dollars folded tightly in his pocket. $37.00 withdrawn. $3.00 fee. He felt the phantom subtraction like a cold pinch, sharper than the night air biting his exposed neck. The money was a solid weight, a shield forged from steam, pain, and the System’s relentless math.
He passed the flickering neon of a closed laundromat. His hand brushed the crusted juice stain on his shirt – a rough, stiff patch against the wo ...
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