The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it was extruded from the sky, a grey, viscous fluid that seeped into the pores of Arthur Penhaligon’s wool coat and settled into the marrow of his bones, a persistent dampness that mirrored the slow, creeping failure of his lungs which had been diagnosed six months prior with a condition the doctors called interstitial fibrosis but which Arthur felt was simply...
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