The Wistful Cipher

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 05:00:43 -

The rain did not fall. It hung. It suspended in the air like a fine gray mist, a static charge that prickled the skin. I stood on the edge of the dock. The water below was black glass. It reflected the city, but the city was wrong. The buildings were taller, thinner, twisted like burnt matches. The lights were cold blue. I looked down at my hands. They were stained. Not with ink. Not with dirt....

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