The Faded Apartment
The fire did not consume the house; it merely rearranged its geometry. One moment, the study was a sanctuary of silence, lined with shelves of leather-bound volumes and the scent of old paper. The next, the air was thick with the acrid bite of burning varnish and the groan of structural wood failing under the heat. I stood on the street, watching the orange pulse of the flames eat through the...
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