The Wistful Skyline
The house did not breathe, at least not in the way the new neighbors claimed, but Julian perceived a rhythmic expansion in the timber framing, a slow, tectonic sigh that matched the frequency of the furnace’s low, mechanical thrum, a sound so constant it had become the baseline against which he measured the passage of hours, a baseline of heat and dust and the faint, metallic tang of old iron...
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