The Wistful Show

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2026-08-18 15:14:01 -

The Wistful Show

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world against the cold, industrial glass of the observation deck, where the air smelled faintly of ozone and damp wool, a scent that seemed to permeate the very bones of the station and settle into the hollows of my chest with a persistent, low-grade ache that I had long since mistaken for a...

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