Embers in the Server Room

The sterile hum of the server room was Anya’s sanctuary, a stark contrast to the inferno that

had once defined her existence. Here, amidst the cool, manufactured air

and the silent procession of blinking lights, she could almost forget. Almost.

The faint, metallic tang of ozone, a constant companion in her meticulously

organized, minimalist office, was a phantom scent that could, without warning,

conjure the acrid, suffocating reek of smoke. It was a sensory ghost,

a cruel whisper from a life she had meticulously buried.Her fingers, long and slender,

danced over the keyboard, each keystroke a deliberate act of defiance against