The Faded Apartment
The fever broke at dawn, not with a sudden clarity but with a slow, grinding erosion of the boundaries between Elias Thorne’s mind and the damp, rotting air of the infirmary. He lay on the iron frame, the springs creaking a low, metallic moan that seemed to vibrate in his teeth, watching the condensation bead on the cold brick wall above him. In his hand, clutched with a grip that had long...
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