The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-20 11:10:19 -

The Wistful Ashes

The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hung, a gray curtain that smelled of wet ash and copper. It was the kind of weather that settled into the joints, a physical weight that pressed against the eardrums and the eyes. Inside the precinct station, the air was still and thick with the scent of old paper and the faint, metallic tang of the cleaning solution they used to scrub the floors....

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