The Faded River
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a static veil over the grey concrete of the city, blurring the edges of the world until the streets dissolved into a smear of wet asphalt and neon. I sat in the back of a taxi, watching the water distort the passing lights into streaks of amber and red, my hands resting on my knees, still stained with the dust of the archive. For thirty years, I had...
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