The Faded Attic
The velvet of the gown was heavy, a physical weight that seemed to press against the very bones of your frame, yet you did not mind the burden. It was the only thing in the world that felt real, the only thing that possessed a texture you could grasp with the fingertips of your mind. You stood before the mirror in the antechamber, the glass dark and unreflective, and you watched the fabric...
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