The Distant Nightmare
The rain has not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turns the cobblestones of the Old Quarter into a slick, mirrored surface reflecting the soot-stained faces of the women who stand in the queue, waiting for the door to the Undercroft to open, a door that groans in the wind as if the city itself is holding its breath in anticipation of the sickness that is spreading through...
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