The Wistful Skyline
The air in the town of Oakhaven tasted of copper and old rain, a metallic tang that coated the back of Mara’s throat as she stood at the edge of the community center, her fists clenched so tightly that the knuckles whitened and cracked against the damp wood of the doorframe, where she was screaming at the reflection of herself that stared back from the shattered windowpane with a calm,...
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