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... ving anyone, just me, Li Runze, twenty-eight years old, alone in my cubicle at 11 PM on a Wednesday, working overtime for the fifteenth time this month, and my body decides that this particular sip of lukewarm coffee is the hill it wants to die on.
Literally.
The burn in my throat, the panic, the desperate gasping, my phone is across the desk and no one else is on this floor. I claw at my neck like that’s going to help, vision blurring, lungs screaming, and then...
Nothin ...
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