The Distant Threshold
The rain in the city does not fall so much as it accumulates, a heavy, gray suspension that settles into the crevices of the pavement and the hollows of your bones. You are leaving the apartment on the fourth floor, the one with the peeling wallpaper that looks like old skin, and you are carrying a box of books that are not yours. They belong to Julian, your teacher, your mentor, the man who...
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