The Wistful Skyline
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of Blackwood Lane into a slick, reflective mirror of the bruised sky. I stood on the threshold of the Vane estate, my breath pluming in the sudden, unnatural chill that emanated from the heavy oak door, while the board’s directive to secure the tenure of the archive by cataloging this difficult estate...
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