The Distant Affair
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick mirrors reflecting the neon bleed of the streetlamps and the weary, amber glow of the windows in my study, where I sat not as a guest but as a prisoner of my own intellect, surrounded by the dust motes dancing in the slanted light of a lamp that had never once...
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