The Faded Ruin
The rain lashed against the single pane of glass, blurring the view of the Municipal Archive into a watercolor of grey stone and black iron. Elias Vane sat in the cramped office on the fourth floor, his fingers resting on a cold cup of coffee, staring at the facade. The building was dying. He could see it in the way the mortar crumbled, in the sag of the upper eaves, in the dark, wet patches...
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