Gг©nг©rique -

"I found it near the edge of the grid," Elias said, his eyes bright. "Beyond the last . There’s a place where the concrete ends and the dirt starts. And the dirt isn't gray, Clara. It’s brown. It smells like rot and life."

He realized then that they weren't living in a world; they were living in a draft. They were the placeholders, the "Insert Character Here" of a story that hadn't been written yet. GГ©nГ©rique

Elias looked at the bottle cap. For the first time in his life, he felt a sharp, stinging pain in his thumb where the metal pressed against his skin. It was a sensation that didn't have a label. It wasn't just ; it was a cold, metallic bite. "I found it near the edge of the