The Distant Promise
The rain in the city did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey mist that clung to the cobblestones and the iron grates of the Victorian tenements, erasing the line between the earth and the sky. Thomas Bradshaw walked through this deluge, his boots heavy with the sludge of the streets, the weight of his uniform a second skin that had long since ceased to be fabric and become...
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