The Faded Apartment
The ledger held three hundred and twelve entries, and Clara Vane’s fingers moved over them with the mechanical precision of a clockwork mechanism, counting the discrepancies in the debt registry as if counting the stitches in a hem. It was November in 1912, and the Municipal Records Office smelled of damp wool, old paper, and the stale, metallic tang of fear that had settled into the walls over...
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