The Distant Cartograph
The rain hit the asphalt in sheets. Gray. Cold. Unending. Marcus stood on the curb. He watched the taxi pull away. The yellow light smeared into a blur. Then it was gone. The street was empty. Just the sound of water. Just the hiss of tires on wet pavement. He turned. He walked into the building. The lobby smelled of floor wax and stale coffee. The floor tiles were black and white....
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