The Pale Echo
The fog that rolled in from the harbor did not merely obscure the view of the city; it erased it, turning the ironclad architecture of the industrial district into a ghostly, breathing silhouette that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the great engines hidden beneath the cobblestones. I stood on the precipice of the unfinished viaduct, my hands resting on the cold, wet iron railing, feeling...
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