The Faded Apartment
The foreclosure notice arrived on a Tuesday, sliding under the door of Elias Thorne’s apartment with the soft, definitive thud of a coffin lid closing, and he did not open it until he had finished the third of his four daily sittings for the dead, his hands trembling not from the cold of the November draft but from the sheer, exhausting weight of the spirits he had carried that day. He was...
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