1 Work by JustCallMeWayne
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He remembers the ticking of the clock. The groaning of the 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 never-ending misery, while the two of them found a momentary solace here, in each other's arms.