The Faded Attic
The notice lay on the kitchen table, its ink dry and black against the yellowed paper. Arthur read it three times, the words blurring into a single, jagged line of debt. Rent was due in two days, and he had four pounds in his pocket and a job that paid by the hour in a ledger that never balanced. He folded the paper, tucked it into his waistcoat, and went to the attic. The air up there was...
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