The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-19 08:28:15 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the canvas of the tent, a rhythmic, mechanical tapping that sounded like nails being driven into a coffin. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds. One, two, three. The number was arbitrary. I was not counting to kill time. I was counting to keep my heart from stopping. My name is Arthur. I am twelve years old. I...

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