The Distant Crown
The rain didn’t stop. It just changed its mind about how hard to hit. I stood on the balcony. The city below was a smear of grey and wet black. Neon signs bled into the puddles. Red. Blue. A sickly, electric green. They looked like bruises. I watched a woman walk by with a yellow umbrella. She moved fast. Urgent. Like she was trying to outrun the water. Or the noise. Or herself. My name is...
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