The Wistful Petal
The storm did not arrive with the usual fanfare of thunder and lightning, but with a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against the eardrums, a vacuum that sucked the air from the lungs of the city and left the buildings standing as hollow, gray teeth against a bruised and purple sky. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood on the balcony of his apartment on the fourteenth floor,...
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