The Distant Promise
The rain hit the cobblestones. It drummed a dull, relentless rhythm. I stood by the window. The glass was cold. My breath fogged the pane. I wiped it with my thumb. A small, white circle. Then the gray mist returned. Eleanor was inside. She was sleeping. Or pretending to. Her breathing was shallow. It caught in her chest. A wet rattle. I listened to it. I counted the beats. One. Two. Three. The...
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