The Faded Quadrant
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a thick, grey curtain that blurred the edge of the world where the cobblestones met the mist, and Elias Thorne stood at the center of this damp, breathing expanse, his fingers working the hem of a coat that had once been the color of deep sea water but was now the pale, washed-out blue of a winter sky just before dawn. He was a tailor, or he had been,...
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