The pocket
Rubylockand the walls kept tumbling downthis damned thirst for survivalstagnant water of apocalypsedarkness inside
The weight of our situation pressed down, heavy and suffocating.
It was then, amidst the debris of a collapsed building, that Kelly unearthed it – a small, tarnished silver locket. It lay half-buried in the dust, its surface scratched and worn, yet somehow managing to retain a faint, almost ethereal glow. We gathered around it, the faint glimmer a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness. Inside, nestled amongst the faded velvet lining, was a single, faded photograph.
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