The Faded Apartment
You are sitting in the dark of the archive, the air thick with the scent of decaying paper and the metallic tang of old iron, a smell that has seeped into the fibers of your clothing so deeply that you can no longer tell where the building ends and your skin begins. The clock on the wall, a massive grandfather clock with a face like a cracked moon, ticks with a heaviness that seems to drag the...
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