The Distant Ghost
The building stood at the end of the long, sloping street in the district known colloquially as the Hollow, a place where the brickwork wept with damp and the shadows lengthened prematurely as if the sun itself were afraid to commit to the evening, and I stood before its heavy, iron-banded oak door with my coat unbuttoned and my breath coming in short, sharp gasps that misted in the cold...
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