The Faded Apartment
You’re still breathing, aren’t you? The question hangs in the air of the dream, a fragile thread of smoke that dissolves before you can answer, leaving only the sound of the screen vibrating against the window frame. You wake in the blue, pre-dawn dark of your apartment in Seattle, the air thick with the scent of old paper and the damp wool of your cardigan, and for a moment you cannot tell if...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews