The Wistful Show
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the shoulders of the coat and the brim of the hat, turning the town into a watercolor left out in the damp. Elias Thorne walked with a rhythm that was less a gait and more a calculated maintenance of balance, his boots striking the wet cobblestones with a dull, rhythmic thud that seemed to be the only...
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