The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-19 19:31:39 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a gray, industrial mist that clung to the windowpanes of the forty-third floor. I pressed my palm against the cold glass, watching the wipers of a taxi below trace slow, hypnotic arcs through the puddles. Inside the glass box of the executive suite, the air was dry and smelled faintly of ozone and expensive coffee. My name is Arthur Penhaligon, and...

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