The Faded Frequency
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey curtain that turned the city into a watercolor painting left out in the damp, blurring the edges of the concrete and the steel until they seemed to dissolve into the same wet, indifferent substance. I woke not with a start but with a slow, viscous pull, my body heavy with the residue of a dream that felt less like a...
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