The Faded Apartment
The coal dust in the air of Harrowgate tasted of ash and old regret, a gritty film that settled on the tongue and lingered in the throat. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood alone in the center of his sparse apartment, the room stripped of anything that might suggest a life rather than a waiting, his eyes fixed on the object in his hands. It was a wool shawl, faded to a bruised violet, the wool felt by...
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