The Wistful Show
The rain had been falling on the town of Oakhaven for three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the cobblestones and made the air taste of wet iron and old stone. In the center of the square stood the Clocktower, a structure of dark brick and iron, silent and unyielding. It did not tick. It did not chime. It simply stood, a monument to a time that no longer existed, its face...
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