The Wistful Witness
The rain did not fall so much as it suspended itself in the air, a fine, grey mist that clung to the cobblestones of Harrowgate like a shroud, obscuring the sharp edges of the Victorian architecture and softening the world into a watercolor smear of slate and charcoal. Inside the dim, vaulted archive of the Municipal Bureau of Sanitary Inspection, Elias Thorne sat alone in the quiet, the...
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