1 Work by JustCallMeWayne
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He remembers the ticking of the clock. The groaning of termite-eaten wood, the dust and smell of the old books. The squeal of the springs in the mattress, the scratchy bedsheets. The way the outside world felt distant, left behind to wallow in its perpetual misery, while the two of them found a temporary solace here, in eachothers arms.