The Wistful Show
The rain hammered against the high, grimy windows of St. Jude’s Hospital, blurring the city lights into streaks of amber and gray. Inside the sterile, humming corridor, Dr. Elias Thorne stood with his back to the door, his white coat immaculate, his face a mask of professional detachment that felt, to him, less like armor and more like a cage. He was a man of precise words and colder logic, a...
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