The Pale Tower
We left the house in the rain, that heavy, slanting downpour which turned the cobblestones of our own street into a slick, black mirror of the sky above, and I remember thinking, with a clarity that felt borrowed, that the weight of the world was not in the stones but in the silence of the room we had just vacated, a silence that hummed with the frequency of things broken beyond repair, and we...
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