The Wistful Saga
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grief that coated the wet asphalt of the district in a sheen of black oil. You stood in the doorway of the precinct, the heavy oak door groaning against its frame, and watched the wraiths of the city dissolve into the gray mist. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed with a frequency that seemed to vibrate in your molars, a sound...
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