The Distant Crown
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey, suffocating curtain that turned the steel-and-glass monoliths of the city into smudged watercolors. I stood on the corner of Fourth and Main, my coat heavy with the dampness that soaked into the wool and clung to my skin like a second, colder flesh. The sign above the bank was broken. It had been a simple thing, a brass plaque with...
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