The Faded Attic
The fog did not merely settle upon the industrial district of Oakhaven; it invaded it, a thick, grey wool that strangled the smokestacks and swallowed the gaslights of the night shift. I had been walking for hours, my boots sinking into the wet cobblestones that mirrored the fractured moonlight, searching for a resonance that the world seemed determined to erase. The air tasted of sulfur and...
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