The Distant Metropolis
The rain had been falling for three days when I left the gatehouse, a structure that had once stood as the immutable heart of our small, rain-soaked valley, now reduced to a shell of rotting oak and weeping stone that mirrored the slow decay of my own soul as I walked away from the only home I had ever known. I am a man who has spent his entire life learning the precise geometry of duty, the...
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