The Distant Blade
The rain fell in sheets of silver wire. It struck the glass of the office window with a relentless, percussive force. Margaret sat at her desk. The wood was cold under her palms. Outside, the city was a blur of grey and black. She could not see the street. She could not see the people. She saw only the water. It was eating the world. Her hand trembled. She reached for her pen. The ink was...
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