The Wistful Petal
The apartment in the fourth district smelled of damp plaster and the metallic tang of ozone, a scent that had seeped into the porous fabric of the walls over the decades, creating a permanent, invisible mold that clung to the lungs of anyone who lingered too long in the dim, amber-lit corridors of the building where the light did not reach, where the air hung heavy and still, suspended in a...
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