The Distant Blade
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a cold, grey mist that clung to the walls of the apartment on the top floor of the building that leaned precariously over the alley, a place where the pipes groaned like old men and the air smelled perpetually of damp wool and stale coffee. Margot stood before the window, her fingers tracing the condensation that had gathered there, her breath a...
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