The Faded Attic

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2026-08-20 14:09:24 -

The Faded Attic

I dreamed of the house again, though I hadn’t seen it in thirty years, and in the dream the air smelled of wet wool and stale tobacco, a thick, cloying scent that seemed to hang in the rafters like a heavy, invisible fog. I was standing in the center of the attic, my bare feet sinking into a dust that was not gray but black, a fine soot that coated my lungs with a gritty, metallic taste. The...

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