The Faded Apartment
The letter from the county assessor sat on the workbench, its ink still wet, demanding a valuation of the cottage before the winter rains turned the road to mud. I picked it up, my fingers stiff from the cold that seemed to live in the marrow of my bones, and read the line that said the property was unsalvageable due to structural decay. I tore it in half, then into quarters, and dropped the...
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