The Faded Apartment
The rain did not fall; it was extracted from the sky by a hook, dragged down in long, silver threads that snapped against the wet cobblestones of Oakhaven. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the street, his coat soaked through to the skin, holding a loaf of bread wrapped in brown paper. The bread was warm. It was the only warm thing in the world. He could feel the heat radiating from the...
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