The Faded Apartment
The rain on the roof of the caravan sounded like a thousand small fingers drumming against the tin, a relentless, rhythmic tapping that had worn Edward Ashworth’s nerves down to raw, frayed wires over the last three days of travel. He sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting loosely on the wheel, watching the mist curl around the ancient oaks that lined the muddy track, their branches heavy...
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