The Faded Apartment
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a gray veil stretched tight against the windowpanes of the basement flat, blurring the street into a smear of charcoal and wet slate. You sat at the kitchen table, your fingers wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug, the handle worn smooth by decades of grip. The room smelled of damp plaster and the metallic tang of old pennies. This was not a home in any...
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