The Wistful Saga
The rain hit the clinic roof with a steady, rhythmic thud that Elias Thorne had learned to ignore, a sound that had become as constant and indifferent as his own heartbeat. He sat at his desk, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows and late-night case reviews, staring at the file of Clara Thorne, his wife and patient. It was 2024, and the marriage was a corpse they both pretended was...
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