The Faded Sutra
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed down from a sky the color of wet slate, a heavy, suffocating weight that turned the cobblestones of the old city square into a mirror of bruised purple and gray. In the center of this wet stage stood the Chapel of Saint Jude, a structure of such ancient, unyielding stone that it seemed less built by men than grown from the earth itself, a monolith...
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