The Distant Metropolis
The pen was heavy in your hand, the ink drying into a black scab on the deed before you could even think. You stood in the hallway of the Ashworth estate, the floorboards creaking under the weight of your shoes, while the wallpaper peeled away in long, damp strips that curled like burnt paper. Three days. That was all the bank had given you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, leaving a streak...
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