The Wistful Skyline
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Blackwood Lane into a slick, dark mirror reflecting the soot-stained faces of the passing carts, and it was into this wet, weeping world that Thomas Ashworth stepped, his small shoes squelching with a rhythm that seemed to count down the seconds of his dwindling childhood, while above him the...
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