The Distant Metropolis
The rain hammered against the slate roof of the house, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of my bones. I sat at the kitchen table, the wood scarred by decades of use, and watched the water bead and run down the glass of the window. Outside, the world was gray and blurring, the industrial smoke of the nearby mill choking the sky in low, thick clouds. The...
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