The Distant Metropolis
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the world outside the window into a smear of mud and slate, a visual noise that seemed to hum against the glass with a frequency only the weary could hear. You sat in the corner of the safehouse, a sterile box of concrete and cinder block that smelled of damp wool and antiseptic, your back pressed against the cold...
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