The apartment smelled like old pizza and old decisions and the particular kind of loneliness that comes from living somewhere for so long that the walls start to remember you.
Dave Murphy sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall. The wall was beige. It had been beige when he had moved in four years ago, and it was still beige, though the color had shifted slightly in the time between then and now, the way all colors shift when you stop looking at them directly and only notice them in your peripheral vision, the way a friend notices that you have changed only...
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