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... otten or stolen. Glass jars sat cracked, labels faded, the smell of sour rot wafting up. Sid stopped, holding the Prango tube in one hand and grimacing.
"Yeah, called it. Place looks like someone rage-quit mid-grocery run. Guess it makes sense... Years of dust and rats. Of course everything’s wrecked. But... come on. Not even one decent can?"
He knelt and pried open a rusted tin, only for the mush inside to ooze black and foul. He gagged and dropped it, wiping his hands on his pa ...
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