The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended grey curtain that blurred the edges of the hospital wing and the world beyond, a viscous, relentless medium through which Dr. Elias Thorne’s voice drifted into the sterile air of the consultation room, carrying with it the weight of a verdict that Margaret Holloway felt land not in her mind, but in the marrow of her bones, settling there...
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