The Wistful Skyline
The rain had been falling since the previous Tuesday, a cold, persistent sheet that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, mirror-like expanse reflecting the gray, indifferent sky. Arthur Penhaligon stood at the window of his office on the fourth floor of the municipal records building, watching the water run down the glass in long, trembling rivulets, each one a fleeting path that...
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