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The Apartment #230


Enoch DeStiy slowly bowed his head.
Flecks of flesh dropped from the top of his skull as it crumbled. His arms hung loosely by his side, clumps of flesh falling from his hands.
Slowly, his whole body disintegrated. Around both feet, mounds of small pieces of fallen flesh grew until they reached the end of his trousers, which themselves bulged wide with fallen tissue.
Bulges, too, above his belt, where his shirt trapped the flesh fallen from his stomach, chest and back. His neck crumbled, exposing an open throat, which in turn fell apart.
And the silence grew ever stronger.

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