The Faded Apartment
The winter light fell through the high, grime-streaked windows of the archive, a pale, dusty sheet that seemed to suspend the very air in a state of suspended animation, and you stood there in the center of the room, surrounded by the towering, mahogany shelves that held the bureaucratic soul of the city, their spines cracked and leather peeling like dead skin, while the clock on the wall...
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