The Wistful Skyline
The rain fell in sheets, turning the steel grating of the catwalk into a slick, treacherous surface that demanded a careful, counting step: one, two, three, four, keep the rhythm, keep the weight centered. You were Elias Thorne, thirty-two, a junior clerk in the Ministry of Infrastructure, and your boots were soaked through to the skin, the cold biting into your toes with a sharp, physical ache...
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