The Faded Apartment
The fog did not roll in; it seeped, a cold and silent tide that swallowed the edges of the Blackwood Estate grounds, erasing the boundary between the manicured lawns and the wild, untamed heath beyond. I am Elias Thorne, and for the past three weeks, I have been losing myself one hour at a time, a slow and steady bleed of memory that I have come to mistake for the quiet dignity of my work. I...
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