The Faded Quadrant
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of St. Jude’s into a slick, reflective mirror. You stood at the gate, your breath visible in the cold air, watching the water run in rivulets down the brickwork. The building loomed above you, a monstrosity of ivy and rot, its windows dark like empty sockets. You were Elias, forty-two, and you were...
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