The Distant Summer

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2026-08-21 09:48:55 -

The rain on the windowpane of the fourth-floor office was a rhythmic, dull tapping that sounded like a finger testing the integrity of thin glass, a persistent, wet percussion that Marlowe had spent the last six hours trying to ignore while her mother, Elara, sat in the ergonomic chair across from the desk, her hands folded in her lap with a stillness that was not peace but the absolute,...

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