The Wistful Show
The rain has been falling for three days, a grey, relentless sheet that turns the garden into a brown sludge of mud and decaying leaves. You stand by the window of the kitchen, your hands wrapped around a cold cup of tea, watching the water run off the eaves in thick, heavy lines. The house is quiet, a silence that feels heavy in your ears, pressing against your skull. You are a man who has...
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