The Wistful Show
The sky did not fall so much as it bruised, a vast, swollen contusion of purple and charcoal that stretched across the concrete canyons of the city, pressing down on the shoulders of the men and women who moved with the frantic, disjointed rhythm of ants sensing a flood, while in the heart of the district, where the old brick tenements stood shoulder to shoulder like weary sentinels, the air...
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