The Faded Portrait
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Ashworth Lane into slick, black mirrors reflecting the soot-stained brickwork of the town. Elias Vane stood at the threshold of his workshop, a man whose hands were permanently stained with the dust of plaster and the oil of old varnishes, watching the water race down the gutters of the building...
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