The Faded Apartment
The morning light fell through the warped glass of the transom window in a slanting, dusty beam that illuminated the suspended particulate matter of the room, a universe of dead skin and lint that drifted with the slow, indifferent grace of snow in a landscape that had forgotten how to melt. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the kitchen, his boots heavy and caked with the red clay of the...
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