The Faded Apartment
The apartment smelled of cold lilies, a scent so thick and cloying it seemed to have weight, pressing against Arthur’s lungs as he adjusted the crystal decanter on the dining table, the silver rim catching the light of the chandelier with a blinding, sterile brilliance that did nothing to warm the air or the faces of his guests. He was forty years old, an actuary for Sterling & Associates, a...
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