The Faded Bouquet
The rain in Manchester did not so much fall as it accumulated, a heavy, grey suspension that turned the cobblestones of Deansgate into a mirror of the bruised sky, reflecting the gas lamps that flickered with a dying, insect-like pulse, and standing at the window of her small, damp room above the chandler’s shop, Elara Vane watched the street below with eyes that had seen too much of the...
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