deep sea

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The Bloom Collector

## The Bloom Collector The salt spray tasted like ghosts. Wren traced the chipped Formica of the galley table, knuckles white against the faded blue. Outside, the *Cerulean’s* hull hummed, a low thrum against the perpetual gray of the Pacific.…

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The Abyssal Chorus

## The Abyssal Chorus The chipped Formica countertop stuck to Dr. Aris Thorne’s elbows. He hadn’t slept properly in seventy-two hours, fueled by lukewarm coffee and a growing dread. The spectrogram on the monitor pulsed crimson, a frantic heartbeat against…

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