The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-18 23:16:38 -

The rain did not fall. It hung. It was a grey, suspended mist that clung to the walls of the town hall, soaking through the wool of my coat, settling into the bone. I stood by the window, watching the street below. No one walked. The cobblestones were slick and black, reflecting the dim gaslight that buzzed above the empty square. In my hand, I held a ledger. The leather was warm from my grip....

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