The Golden Circuit
The rain did not fall. It hovered. I stood at the edge of the glass. Below me, the city of New London lay in a pool of gray mist. The streets were empty. No cars. No feet on pavement. Just the silence. A heavy, wet silence. I looked at my hands. They were trembling. The skin was thin. I could see the blue veins beneath. They looked like rivers on a map. Maps I would never read again. My name is...
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