The Faded Quadrant
The rain has been falling on the slate roof of the Ministry of Cultural Heritage for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurs the line between the street below and the cold, air-conditioned silence of the archive room where you sit, staring at the object in your hands with a intensity that feels less like work and more like a slow, suffocating suffocation. It is a coat, or what remains...
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