The Wistful Cipher
The rain does not stop. It taps against the windowpane of the library, a steady, rhythmic code that you have memorized over three years. You sit in the high-backed chair, the leather creaking under your weight. Your hands are folded in your lap. They are trembling. You press them flat against your thighs to still the shiver. You look at the door. It is closed. You know who is on the other side....
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