The Faded Apartment
"You look like a man who has forgotten how to breathe," said Dr. Alistair Thorne, his voice a dry rattle in the heavy, dust-choked air of the Ministry of Public Order. I did not answer. I sat in the high-backed chair, the leather creaking under my weight, and watched the dust motes dance in the single shaft of light cutting through the stained glass window. Outside, the London fog pressed...
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