The Faded Apartment
You wake to the silence of the cellar, a thick, woolen quiet that presses against your eardrums like the weight of the earth above. The air is cold and tastes of damp stone and old iron, but it is the stillness that arrests you, not the cold. You are a man who has spent thirty years in the uniform of the Crown, a man whose life was measured in the rigid geometry of the watchtower and the...
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