The Faded Apartment
The air in the apartment smells of stale coffee and the particular, metallic scent of ozone that precedes a storm, a smell that has seeped into the very fibers of the carpet and the wood grain of the floorboards, binding you to this place with a tenacity that feels less like habit and more like a physical tether, a chain wrapped around your wrist that you cannot see but whose weight you feel in...
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