The Distant Whispers
The rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled from the low, bruised sky, a perpetual sigh that soaked into the floorboards of the warehouse and settled deep into the marrow of my bones. I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the silent, upright forms of the pianos I had spent the last decade restoring, each one a wooden coffin waiting for a soul that would never quite fit inside. My...
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