The Wistful Skyline
The wind did not howl across the expanse of the salt flats, as one might expect from such a desolate and punishing landscape, but rather whispered with the precise, calculated articulation of a scholar reciting a complex legal statute in an empty library, a sound that pressed against the eardrums not with volume but with an unyielding, cold insistence on order and permanence. Margaret stood at...
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