The Faded Apartment
"Did you kill it, or did it just die on its own?" The question hung in the stale, recycled air of the studio apartment, a heavy, invisible weight that I felt pressing against my sternum, against the thinning membrane of my lungs, against the very walls that seemed to breathe in and out with a rhythm that had nothing to do with the furnace’s sputtering cough. I looked at the terrarium on the...
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