The Faded Apartment
The bread was stale. Not in the way of neglect, but in the way of a promise kept too long, drying out at the edges until it crumbled like ash. Elias stood in the center of the room, holding the loaf with both hands, feeling the brittle give of the crust. The apartment was small, a box of concrete and silence in a city that never truly slept but seemed to hold its breath in the early hours. He...
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