The Void of Geneva

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2026-05-24 12:54:44 -

The rain in post-war Geneva did not fall; it descended as a grey, oppressive curtain that blurred the line between the lake and the sky. Julian sat in a café that smelled of stale tobacco and wet wool, watching the pedestrians move like clockwork automatons through the mist. He was a man of thirty, with a face that seemed to have been carved from a piece of cold slate, and eyes that had seen...

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