The Wistful Voyage
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent gray veil that blurred the edges of the city into a watercolor smear of charcoal and steel. Inside the administrative wing of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, the air was sterile, recycled, and thick with the silent hum of fluorescent lights that flickered with a faint, arrhythmic pulse, like the heartbeat of a machine struggling to keep...
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