The Faded Apartment
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the horizon and turned the moor into a churning sea of mud and heather. You stand at the edge of the treeline, your boots sinking into the soft, black earth, and you feel the weight of the iron cross hanging from your neck, a cold anchor that pulls at your sternum with every shallow breath. It is an old symbol,...
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