The Faded Attic
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey mist that clung to the brickwork of the Ashworth Logistics Terminal like a shroud that had forgotten how to let go, and within this damp, humming silence, Elias Ashworth stood before the loading dock doors, his hands trembling not from the cold, which was merely a chill, but from the profound, vertiginous fear of a man who...
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