A cosmic comedy of breathless proportions
In the far reaches of the dust lanes—where space Wi-Fi gets spotty and the laws of physics are mostly optional—drifts the Library of Exhalations. A mysterious floating archive maintained by ancient jellyfish archivists (now unionized, thanks to a one-breath-long revolution), it houses every breath ever released by a sentient being who forgot to say, “Never mind.”
Each breath is bottled, labeled, and filed with impressive inefficiency.
Row 9, Stack 42-B: Sneezes misinterpreted as flirtation
Row 12, Stack 88: First-time karaoke inhalations
Row 666 (misnumbered for branding): Breath-holding contests lost at funerals
But nestled between a jar labeled “Overcooked Potato Reaction #3” and another that simply whispers “Brenda?” is a sealed capsule glowing an uncomfortable beige.
They call it The Suspended One.
No category. No metadata. No known donor.
And worst of all—no expiration date.
Naturally, a temp intern opens it on day one.
Her name is Jexi, a washed-up poet with asthma and an allergy to spectral influence. The moment the breath escapes, strange things begin to happen: the vending machine dispenses ancient prophecies instead of snacks. The library’s AI voice assistant (nicknamed "Shh") starts reciting fanfiction. And worst of all—Jexi begins remembering a dramatic life as a haunted opera singer... on a planet made of regret.
There’s only one way to stop the madness:
She must track down the original breather.
Before the breath rewrites her résumé.
Or worse—her draft tweets.
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