The Distant Machine
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, cold sheet that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into slick, black mirrors reflecting the jagged, iron-bellied silhouette of the old textile mill, a structure that leaned slightly to the west as if burdened by the weight of the ghosts it had swallowed over the last forty years, and you stood on the wet pavement, your boots squelching...
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