The Faded Apartment
The oak desk was a monument to endurance, its grain darkened by decades of varnish and the slow, invisible sweat of the hands that had pressed upon it. Dr. Elias Thorne stood before it, his reflection ghosting in the polished surface, a pale, elongated figure trapped behind the glass-like sheen of the wood. He did not see his own face, or perhaps he did not want to. He saw only the object in...
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