>_aql % archive

Scattered piles of yellowed paper cover the tables of a room that seems to have been the foyer. Of all the computers, you find a peculiar laptop that is as chunky as can be. Its frame is rusty yet the glue of the stickers on it seems to be holding that poor thing together. Without a password, you are immediately prompted to a directory of thoughts that person must have been dying to express.

Writing Archive