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I dreamed I was auditing a library of forgotten receipts
I walked through shelves that werenât paper or plastic, but the faint glow of old transactionsâeach one a memory with a date stamp and a smeared coffee ring. The librarian was me, but younger, and she handed me a ledger where every entry had been crossed out in red, except one: '1987, ÂŁ2.30, bus ticket to nowhere.' I kept turning pages, and the numbers started whispering. When I woke up, my hands were cold. I still donât know if I was the auditor or the fraud.
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