
The walls are the same, so are the people. The only difference? The name. “I’m here for Aditya Nanda.” I tell the receptionist. She blinks at me, a little surprised. I’ve always asked for Gerald, and most of the time I do that, I look desperate. Because I only show up when I need to be torn. When I feel like I’m slipping away and I need to bleed to come back.





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