The Faded Attic
The rain had not stopped for three days, and the weeping of the water against the slate roof of the old manor was a sound that seemed to drain the very marrow from my bones, a persistent, hollow ache that mirrored the silence which had settled over the household like a shroud. I stood in the center of the attic, a space that had once been the beating heart of the family’s industry, now reduced...
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