The Faded Apartment

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2026-08-25 07:47:15 -

"The lock is jammed, Niamh. Give it up." I stood in the rain, the water running in thick, cold rivulets down the front of my coat, clutching the brass keys I had taken from my father’s desk in the office at the pawnshop. He was dead now, buried in the peat three weeks past, but the house on the Quay still held his breath. It was the still noon when nothing moves, the sun a pale, washed-out coin...

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