The detail that changed everything was small, almost easy to miss, yet impossible to forget once seen. A tear in the black plastic revealed a hand. It lay still against the ground, pale against the dry grass and scattered leaves. That single exposed detail stopped the first person who noticed it mid-step. A hand is never abstract. It is unmistakably human. It carries the suggestion of motion, of touch, of work done and moments shared. It reminds you that what lies before you was once alive. There was no sound to announce the discovery. No scream, no sudden rush, no...
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