The Wistful Skyline
The rain had not stopped for three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the distinction between the wet asphalt of the street and the damp wool of your coat, creating a world that felt suspended in a thick, silent suspension where the only sound was the rhythmic, heavy drumming against the glass of the shop window and the low, mournful hum of the ventilation system in the corner of the...
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