The Pale Verdict
The rain has been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that blurs the edges of the world and turns the manicured lawns of the estate into a soup of brown mud and rotting leaves, and you are sitting at the kitchen table with your hands wrapped around a mug of tea that has gone cold an hour ago, listening to the water drip from the eaves into the gutter, a rhythmic, accusatory ticking...
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