Running was the rhythm of the condition. Mere minutes had passed before he arrived at his secluded laboratory nestled deep within the mountains. As for how he reached it, the answer lay in the jet-powered vehicle he had just parked in a remote, designated corner.
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A row of glass cases, each emitting its own distinct glow, skeletal remains of the strangest kind, and scattered papers littering equally scattered tables—these were the sights that greeted him, as they did every day, the moment he stepped into his domain of science and discovery.
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The researcher scanned every inch of the space—not to inspect, but to find a spot for a newly acquired specimen, one that harbored an enigma within its unassuming form. A stone, seemingly like any other in color and texture, yet one he had secured during an expedition that, thankfully, had ended in safety.
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After putting distractions aside and organizing what was already arranged, he secured the stone, encasing it in an aluminum sheet before granting himself the well-earned right to rest.
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The drapery of night deepened its embrace over the brick-and-steel structure—a cover that did not deter a certain feline from slipping through a window, the concept of closure absent from its instincts. The cat wandered, sometimes leaping, sometimes strutting with deliberate grace, moving about at intervals as if the laboratory were a realm of its own.
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Its restless movements left their mark, though, fortunately, the damage was limited to fragile equipment. And once it had concluded its curious pilgrimage, the uninvited guest made its escape, unpursued, through the very same handleless window—leaving behind not only the imprints of its claws but also shards of shattered glass.
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Dawn broke, ushering in a renewed vigor within the researcher. Yet, the shock that gripped him upon entering the room made him overlook the field of broken capsules strewn across the floor. His focus, sharpened by sorrow and urgency, locked onto the worktable where he had believed his treasure lay safely stored.
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Mystery and inquiry loomed large. What had become of the missing piece? Thoughts of longing and anticipation flooded his mind.
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Then, an overlooked clue emerged—now noticed, where before it had been ignored: the glass shards.
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“Astonishing! What could have caused this chaos?”
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As if in answer to his unstated question, a chorus of meows rang out from the vicinity.
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Without hesitation, he moved to leap from the window, but an instinctual retreat followed as his eyes registered the distance between himself and the creatures below.
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Samir froze, reconsidering his impulsive jump, and instead observed the small pride of young felines, their coats adorned with a color so unique, so mesmerizing, that words failed to capture its splendor. Awe-struck, he reached for an old camera buried in a dust-laden chest of belongings.
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And in that moment, yesterday’s passion, long thought to be a mirage of the past—journalism—resurfaced. With a smile, he captured the scene, preserving in his archive of the unknown what the void itself could not erase.
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Little did the lone young man anticipate that this newfound hue would transform him into a journalist whose photographs would yield great fortune, drawing the admiration of those enthralled by the mysteries of the unseen.
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