The Faded Apartment
Who was it that carved the line into the wood, and why did it grow longer every night? Nitin Chatterjee woke with the taste of copper in his mouth, the radiator in the corner of the walk-up apartment knocking a rhythmic, metallic clatter against the silence of the 1960s. He was thirty-four, a line cook operating on a duplicate Social Security number, his credit card float between gigs hovering...
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