[Provide background information or context here].
Inside, the air tasted like new paper. Lamps swung on cords. The room they entered matched Ashlyn’s dream with a cruel fidelity: white sheets, a single steel table, an overhead bulb that hummed at 3:14. On the table lay a slab of raw white meat, pale and absurd beneath the light, veins like weathered rivers. rawwhitemeat ashlyn peaks juliana dreams f new
The meat pulsed. Ashlyn felt a tug, like hunger reaching into her bones. On the table lay a single knife—old, dull, with a handle smoothed by other hands. Beside it, a folded scrap of paper bore one letter: F, ink feathered and trembling. [Provide background information or context here]