The Faded Paradox
The rain had been falling on the city for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones into mirrors reflecting the dull, electric hum of the neon signs above, and you stood in the doorway of your shop, holding a brass key that felt heavy and cold in your palm, watching the wet street swallow the taxi that had just carried away the last of the boxes from your life. It was a...
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