The Faded Apartment
The eviction notice was a single sheet of cream-colored paper, thin as onion skin, held between my thumb and forefinger in the hallway of Flat 4B. It smelled of dust and the chemical tang of cheap printer ink, a scent that seemed to cling to the fibers of the wall behind me, a wall that was not merely plaster but a living membrane, humming with a low, subsonic frequency that I could feel in the...
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