The Faded Apartment
The roof had gone before the rain did, which is a way of saying that the sky had finally decided to reclaim what it had lent us, and it took the shingles, the beams, and the silence with it, leaving only the raw, weeping wood of the attic floor exposed to the grey, relentless weeping of the November air, and I sat there on the damp planks, my knees drawn up to my chest, watching the water pool...
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