The Faded Chronicle
The rain that had persisted for three days did not merely fall upon the sprawling, soot-stained facade of the St. Jude’s Municipal Water Filtration Plant but seemed to seep into the very bones of the brickwork, a cold, penetrating dampness that mirrored the profound, unspoken melancholy settling over the heart of Arthur Penhaligon, a man whose life had been measured not in years but in the...
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