The Faded Apartment
The peeling wallpaper in the spare bedroom of the apartment had begun to lift in long, dry strips, resembling the flayed skin of a limb that had hung too long in the cold. Elias Thorne stood before it, his hands clasped behind his back, listening to the faint, rhythmic tapping that seemed to emanate from the plaster itself. It was a sound like a watch ticking inside a wall, steady and...
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