Dorian sat at his desk, the whale rib typewriter clacking away, filling pages with a story that had no beginning, middle, or end. The Author, whose features now resembled a melting candle, leaned over his shoulder. "This is madness," the Author murmured, his voice a pattern of erased sentences. "Where is the plot? The climax? The denouement?" "Plot is a cage," Dorian said,...

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