The Faded Apartment
The rain in Harrow’s End did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, damp mist that clung to the wool of coats and the skin of faces. It was the kind of weather that made the town feel less like a place and more like a held breath, suspended between one moment and the next. Elias Vane stood in the doorway of the abandoned mill on the outskirts of town, his hand resting on the handle of a...
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