The Wistful Skyline
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the Old Quarter into slick mirrors, reflecting the jagged, broken teeth of the skyline. I stood on the balcony of the university library, my fingers white-knuckled around the rusted iron railing, watching the water drip from the eaves in a rhythm that matched my own frantic, pounding heart. The...
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