The Wistful Mirror
The rain in the town of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent, wet gray membrane that pressed against the windows of the factory and the houses alike, blurring the distinction between the solid world and the damp air that threatened to dissolve it. Elias Thorne walked through this suspended water, his boots heavy with the mud of the lower district, his mind a chaotic archive...
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