The Faded Apartment
You are walking, and you are always walking, your boots sinking into the wet, spongy earth of a moor that stretches out before you like a bruise that will not heal, the sky above a flat, unyielding grey that presses down on your shoulders with a weight you have carried since you were a boy, and you do not stop because there is no ground to stop on, only the endless, churning mud of a world that...
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