The Faded Apartment
The rain in the courtyard of the University of St. Jude did not fall so much as it hovered, a cold, grey mist that settled into the wool of your coat and the joints of your fingers. You stood by the iron gate, watching the water drip from the eaves of the Humanities building, your hands trembling with a rhythmic, mechanical precision that had nothing to do with the cold. At fifty-four, Elias...
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