The Wistful Show

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2026-08-20 00:22:10 -

The Wistful Show

The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the lower city into a slick, black mirror that reflected the jagged, rain-lashed sky above. I stood at the window of my study, a room that smelled of damp wool and old ink, watching the water run in rivulets down the glass, distorting the world outside into a smear of grey and brown. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday,...

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