The Golden Downtown
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, gray mist that settled into the crevices of the brickwork and the pores of the skin, carrying with it the faint, metallic taste of the river that ran beneath the city, a taste that Marcus had learned to associate not with decay, but with the particular, aching sweetness of things that were being slowly, inevitably consumed. He stood...
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