The Faded Apartment
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that blurred the windowpanes of the small, rented room where Elias Thorne sat with his back against the cold wall, his hands wrapped around a ceramic mug that held no tea, only a thin, brown sludge that had gone cold an hour ago, and in the center of the table before him lay the object that had consumed his waking and sleeping...
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