The Faded Apartment
The room did not exist in the way that walls and floorboards usually do, suspended as it was in a void of absolute, humming silence that pressed against the skin like deep water, yet inside the apartment, the air was thick with the scent of burnt sugar and old paper, a sensory overload that struck Thomas Whitmore with the force of a physical blow, and he stood there, in the center of the living...
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