The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-19 07:07:53 -

You dream of the rain falling not on the ground, but through it, a perpetual, silver sheet that separates your skin from the world. In the dream, you are standing in the atrium of the Meridian Tower, a glass cathedral of commerce where the air smells of ozone and cold coffee. You are wearing your best suit, the charcoal wool pressed to a sharpness that cuts the air, and you are holding a cup of...

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