The Faded River
The rain in the city did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain drawn tight across the window of the small, rented room on the fourth floor. Thomas Bradshaw sat at the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees, fingers twitching with a rhythm that had nothing to do with the drumming against the glass and everything to do with the hunger that had eaten through him like a rat through...
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