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Fuses and the Coming Apocalypse

Feeling my way across the room in total darkness, a cool breeze brushed my hair into my eyes. The darkness was thick, almost tangible, and it was hard to tell if my eyes were closed or open. Something in the air changed, and I unconsciously paused in a fight or flight response. Rough unfinished wood guided my hand forward, and I shuffled towards something. Visions of bats sweeping past me brought beads of sweat rolling into my eyes, and I blinked in the darkness. Wood. Glass then brushed steel. The metal was smooth and cold, and I pressed my face against it. A small refuge from the sensory oblivion surrounding me. The End.

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