The Distant Threshold

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2026-08-21 21:35:46 -

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed a steady, indifferent rhythm against the windowpane of my shop, blurring the street below into a smear of gray and wet asphalt. I wiped the glass with a rag, leaving a clear circle in the fog. Through that small aperture, I could see the detective. He was standing across the street, under the awning of the bakery, watching me. His coat was...

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