The Wistful Show
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a heavy, grey curtain that erased the boundary between the cobblestone street and the wet pavement of the town square, turning the world into a smear of charcoal and slate. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the square, his coat flapping violently against his chest, the fabric soaked through to the skin, cold and heavy as a shroud. He was not a...
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