The Distant Metropolis
The rain had been falling for three days, a gray and persistent sheet that turned the cobblestones of the narrow street into slick, black mirrors. Inside the cottage, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and the metallic tang of old iron. Elias sat by the window, his back to the room, watching the water streak down the glass in erratic, jagged lines. He was not a man who looked at...
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