The Faded Attic
The demolition was to begin at dawn, but the smell of wet rot and old ink stopped Elias Thorne in the doorway of the attic, a scent so distinct it seemed to press against his nostrils like a physical weight, forcing him to turn away from the scaffolding and toward the pile of debris that had been left untouched by the crew. He had come to the Highlands to erase himself, to trade the crumbling...
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