The Faded Apartment
Act I The pencil snapped against the grain of the oak desk, the sound sharp and brittle in the stagnant air of the guild hall, and Zeynep Dogan did not flinch, though the wood splintered across her knuckles, drawing a thin bead of blood that welled and sat there, hot and red. She was thirty-four, a senior structural engineer in a city that had long since forgotten how to build without breaking,...
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