The Faded Frontier
The rain had not stopped for three days, a gray curtain that turned the city into a watercolor of smudged edges and forgotten promises. I stood at the window of my third-floor apartment, watching the wipers of a passing taxi slash against the glass in a rhythmic, futile dance. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old paper and the metallic tang of the ink I had been using to...
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