The Faded Dust
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the boundary between the window glass and the weeping willows outside, leaving Eleanor Vance with nothing but the rhythmic, maddening percussion against the pane and the silence of her own house, which had grown so large in her solitude that the footsteps of the ghost she had summoned seemed to echo in the hollows...
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