The Wistful Skyline
The rain in the city did not wash things clean. It only made the grime slicker, turning the cobblestones into black mirrors that reflected the bruised purple of the twilight sky. Elias walked with his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, the fabric worn thin at the elbows, fraying at the cuffs. He was a man who carried his debt in his bones, a weight so heavy it had begun to calcify into his...
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