The Distant Journey
The silence in the apartment on the fourteenth floor was not empty, but thick, a viscous fluid that pressed against the eardrums and settled in the chest. Elias sat at the edge of the window seat, his fingers wrapped around the ceramic handle of a small, unglazed pot, feeling the residual warmth of the water he had boiled three hours ago. Outside, the city of Chicago sprawled in a haze of...
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