The Faded Apartment
The dream began, as it always did, with the sensation of a heavy, wet stone lodged deep within the throat, a physical obstruction that made breathing a laborious, rhythmic struggle. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the kitchen, the linoleum tiles beneath his bare feet feeling shockingly cold and slick, the air thick with the smell of ozone and old dust. He tried to speak, to call out for his...
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