The Faded Apartment
The first thing I noticed was the weight of the stapler on my desk, a heavy, chrome-plated thing that felt like it had been cast from solid lead, and I counted the staples remaining in the magazine, one, two, three, four, until the count reached ten and I realized I had been staring at the metal strip for three minutes without pressing the lever. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a...
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