The Faded Apartment
The rain in the highlands of the Scottish border did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended, greyish veil that blurred the horizon and turned the heather into a bruised, indistinct smear of violet and brown, and I stood there at the edge of the moor, my boots sinking into the cold, wet earth, holding in my hands the tattered remnants of a woolen scarf that had once been the color of a summer...
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