The Faded Apartment
The separation was not a tearing, but a dissolving, like salt in a cup of cold water, leaving behind only the faint, bitter residue of what had once held shape. Elias Vane stood at the edge of the High Gallery, his fingers still tingling with the phantom weight of the chisel he had not touched in three days, and watched the court below settle into its nightly silence. The air was thick with the...
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