The Faded Apartment
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed out of the bruised, violet sky, a heavy, suffocating weight that turned the ancient, unpaved road into a churning slurry of mud and broken slate, and within the creaking, lantern-lit belly of the stagecoach, Thomas Bradshaw sat with his back pressed against the rough-hewn oak, feeling the vibration of the hooves in his very teeth, a rhythmic,...
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