The Faded Apartment
You are bleeding on the concrete, a dark and steady rhythm that matches the thumping in your ears, and the man standing over you is not a monster but a neighbor, a man who mows his lawn on Saturdays and waves at you when you walk the dog, yet his face is twisted into a mask of such absolute, righteous fury that it makes your stomach turn with a nausea that has nothing to do with the pain in...
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