The Distant Metropolis
The road out of the valley was not so much a path as a suggestion, a grey smear of packed dirt and broken shale that snaked up the mountain side like a vein in the flesh of the earth, and Cillian kept his eyes fixed on the wheel, his knuckles white against the cold leather, because if he looked up at the fog rolling in from the coast he might realize that the distance between here and the city...
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