The Faded Apartment
The first thing Elias Thorne counted was the hours, ticking past the iron clock on the mantel, which had lost its rhythm three days ago and now sat like a dead weight in the room, a monument to the stagnation that defined Lord Vane’s estate. He sat at the oak desk, his fingers tracing the grain, feeling the splinters that dug into his skin, and he counted the entries in the ledger, one by one,...
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