The Distant Affair
The letter lay in my palm, the paper soft and ruined by water. It was a small, damp thing, no bigger than a playing card, and the ink had begun to bleed, turning the black text into a bruised purple smear. I sat in the dark of my apartment, the silence pressing against my eardrums like deep water. Outside, the city hummed its low, indifferent tune, but in here, the only sound was the tick of...
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