The Distant Whispers
The rain had not stopped in four days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the world into a watercolor smear of mud and rust, and it was in this wet, suffocating silence that Arthur Penhaligon felt the first true crack in the foundation of his life, a hairline fracture that ran through the marrow of his bones and out into the cold, damp air where the fog clung to the hedgerows like a shroud....
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