The Faded Apartment
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed against the glass by the weight of the city, a persistent, grey hand that refused to let go, and you sat on the floor of the attic room, your back against the cold brick, holding the coat so tightly that the seams threatened to split under the pressure of your fingers. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, the days had bled together into a...
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