The Faded Apartment
The chipped porcelain cup in Elias Thorne’s hand was not merely cracked; it was a wound that hummed, a low, persistent vibration that traveled up his wrist and settled in his teeth. He stood in the center of the grand hall, a space that had once been a cathedral of wealth but now served as a temporary gallery for a real estate developer’s vanity, the air thick with the scent of stale champagne...
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