The Wistful Show
The building did not stand so much as it hovered, a sprawling, impossible architecture of glass and weathered oak that seemed to breathe with the slow, rhythmic pulse of the town below, suspended in a sky that was neither day nor night but a perpetual, bruised twilight that clung to the eaves like damp wool. Elias Thorne had been the caretaker of this place, the Grand Hotel Aether, for forty...
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