The Faded Paradox
The rain hit the pavement in sheets. It was not a gentle rain. It was a hammer. I stood under the awning of the closed bakery, watching the water drip from the edge of the sign. The sign was faded. The letters, once a bright, cheerful yellow, had bled into a sickly, jaundiced white. They were illegible now. Just shapes. Just ghosts of words. I checked my watch. 4:15 AM. The city was awake. It...
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