The Wistful Skyline
The wind did not howl here, but it screamed, a high-pitched, digital shriek that tore at the edges of my consciousness like a corrupted file trying to load, and I was standing in the center of a vast, grey expanse that felt less like land and more like the static between radio stations, the ground beneath my boots dissolving into a fine, powdery mist that smelled of ozone and old copper, and I...
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