The Faded Chronicle
The cardboard box was sealed with brown packing tape, a thick, jagged scar across the center that held my last three years of life together. I sat on the edge of the single bed in my basement apartment, the air stagnant and thick with the smell of damp concrete and old paper, and I taped the final corner. There was no window here, only a small, frosted porthole that let in a sliver of grey...
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