The Faded Apartment
The rain fell on the cobblestones of the old town with a rhythmic persistence, drumming against the shutters of the workshop where the silence was thick enough to taste. "You are a fool, Thomas," said the stranger, his voice rough like gravel under a boot. He stood by the hearth, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. "You chase a ghost with a hammer and chisel." Thomas Bradshaw...
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