The Wistful Skyline
The dream began with the smell of wet plaster and old dust. Dr. Arthur Penhaligon stood in the center of the hall, but the hall was not the one he remembered. It was larger, stretching upward into a darkness that swallowed the chandelier. The walls were peeling, long strips of faded floral wallpaper curling away like dead skin to reveal the grey brick beneath. He reached out to touch the...
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