The Wistful Atlas
The rain lashed against the cracked windshield of the rental car, blurring the world outside into a smear of grey mud and dying leaves, as Elara Holloway gripped the steering wheel with a force that turned her knuckles white. She was thirty-two, a woman who had spent the last decade in sterile, air-conditioned offices in London, yet the moment her tires crunched onto the gravel drive of her...
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