The Faded Paradox
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick, black mirrors reflecting the damp soot of the gas lamps. I stood in the window of my office, the heavy oak door locked behind me, listening to the water tap against the glass with the persistence of a small, angry animal. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wet...
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