The Faded Apartment
The rain in London did not fall so much as it accumulated, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the wool of coats and seeped into the marrow of bones, eroding the sharp edges of the city until all things looked soft and indistinct. Thomas Ashworth moved through this damp silence with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man whose body had been a weapon for so long that it had forgotten how to be...
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