The Wistful Grid
The grid was not what she had expected. After thirteen months of walking past it—past the flat on Chalcot Square where Leo had lived, past the Regent's Canal where he'd said the water sounded like static, past the little corner shop on Chalk Farm Road where he'd bought the same cheap tea every Tuesday—Maya Hartwell finally stopped and looked up. The grid filled an entire wall of the courtyard...
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