The Faded Apartment
The box is open on the kitchen table, and you are standing over it with your hands trembling, not from cold, but from the sheer, crushing weight of what has just left the room. You watch the dust motes dancing in the shaft of afternoon light that cuts through the window, illuminating the empty space where the vase once stood. It is a small, ceramic thing, unremarkable in its shape, painted with...
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