The Golden Downtown
The rain in the city of St. Jude did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended mist that clung to the wool of Margaret’s coat and the brass fittings of the municipal archive. It was a dampness that seemed to have its own weight, pressing against the skin of the world, erasing the sharp edges of the cobblestones and softening the jagged skyline into a smear of grey and indigo. Margaret...
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