The Distant Machine
The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the high, arched windows of the Hall, a relentless, rhythmic tapping that sounded like the world trying to break in. I sat in the library, the only light coming from the dying embers in the fireplace. My hands shook. I wiped them on my trousers, but the dampness remained. It was a cold that went deeper than skin. Deeper than bone. It...
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