The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-18 01:17:01 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell in a fine, gray mist that clung to the brickwork of the city, turning the streets into slick mirrors of the neon signs above. I stood in the center of the intersection, my hand resting on the cold steel of my service pistol. The leather of my holster was worn thin, a map of years spent waiting for the moment that would define me. The city hummed...

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