The Distant Metropolis
The rain fell in thin, gray sheets against the glass of the Greyfriars station, blurring the world beyond into a smear of wet asphalt and distant sodium lights. Elias Thorne stood on the platform, his fingers white-knuckled around the letter, the paper damp and soft where the water had seeped through the thin envelope. He watched the 14:15 train pull away, its tail lights receding into the...
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