The Distant Metropolis
The rain did not fall so much as it invaded, a cold, relentless mist that turned the gravel shoulder of the highway into a slurry of mud and broken glass. Elias Thorne wiped his face with a handkerchief that had long since lost its whiteness, his knuckles white against the steering wheel of his sedan. He was not driving; he was enduring the drive, his eyes fixed on the gray smear of the...
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