The Wistful Cipher
The rain had been falling for three days, a ceaseless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the estate into slick, black mirrors reflecting a sky that refused to break. I stood in the library, my hand resting on the spine of a leather-bound volume that felt colder than the stone floor beneath my boots, listening to the rhythmic drip of water from the shattered windowpane. My companion,...
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