The Wistful Ashes
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended gray curtain that blurred the edges of the city into a uniform smear of wet concrete and neon. Elias Thorne stood on the corner of 4th and Main, his collar turned up against the chill, watching the traffic light cycle from red to green with the mechanical indifference of a metronome. He was a Senior Compliance Officer for the Bureau of Civic...
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