The Faded Apartment
The hammer struck the oak, a dull, final thud that echoed through the dusty air of the workshop, and I knew with a sudden, cold clarity that the door was finished, or perhaps, it had never truly existed at all. I stood there, my hands still raised in the air, the wood chisel trembling in my grip, feeling the shock of the impact travel up my arm and settle in my chest like a stone dropped into...
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