The Wistful Witness
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the cobblestones of the courtyard into a slick, mirror-like expanse of black glass, reflecting the pale, sickly glow of the gas lamps that flickered with a dying, arrhythmic pulse as if the light itself were tired of witnessing the decay of the estate. Inside the...
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