The Faded Apartment
The first thing you notice is the sound. Not a roar, not a crash, but a wet, rhythmic tapping against the inside of your skull, like fingers drumming on a glass table in a silent room. You are sitting in the back of a sedan, the leather seats cold and stiff under your trousers, the air conditioner humming a low, mechanical note that does nothing to soothe the thrumming in your head. The car is...
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