The Golden Downtown
The rain in Harrowgate did not fall so much as it hung, a persistent gray veil that turned the suburban streets into a smear of wet asphalt and fading headlights, a visual echo of the stagnation that Elias Thorne felt settling in his bones. He sat at the kitchen table, the surface bare save for a single, unopened packet of oat biscuits and a glass of water that had long since lost its chill,...
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