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... is phone alarm vibrating against the nightstand. Groggy, he reached over and silenced it, blinking at the faint light streaming through the window. It was 8 a.m., and the cheap curtains barely kept the morning sun at bay.

Stretching, Matthew sat up and rubbed his temples. For a moment, he forgot where he was, the sparse room a far cry from the suffocating familiarity of his family's condo. Then it all came rushing back—the USB, the pills, the lotto ticket tucked safely in his wallet.

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