The Faded Apartment
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended veil of grey mist that blurred the edges of the city into a watercolor wash of slate and charcoal. Elias Thorne stood at the threshold of the office, his hand resting on the cold brass knob, feeling the vibration of the machinery within the walls. He was a man of middling years, his suit pressed to a severity that spoke of a life lived in...
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