The Distant Blade
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, mirror-like surface reflecting the dim, amber glow of the streetlamps. I sat in the back of the taxi, my coat damp with the dampness of the city, watching the water bead and slide down the glass, blurring the familiar streets into a smear of charcoal and neon. I was going...
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