The Faded Apartment
The matchstick snapped between Elias’s thumb and forefinger, a dry, sharp crack that echoed too loudly in the silence of the kitchen. He held the flame up to the edge of the leather-bound ledger, his hand trembling not from cold, but from the sheer, jagged effort of holding the fire steady against the draft that seeped through the windowpane. The paper did not catch. It did not even char....
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