The Faded Paradox
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended curtain of grey mist that clung to the glass of the office. I stood by the window, watching the street below. It was empty. The silence in the room was heavy, a physical weight pressing against my eardrums. "You are late," a voice said. It was soft, precise. It cut through the quiet like a scalpel. I turned. He sat behind the desk. The...
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