The Faded Ruin
The air in the study tasted of dust and old paper, a dry, metallic tang that coated the back of your throat before you even opened the book. You sat at the mahogany desk, the surface scarred by decades of ink spills and cigarette burns, and stared at the leather-bound journal that had been the center of your life for three years. It was late October, 2024, and the rain against the windows of...
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