Wet light crawls along the edges of rust and chrome. He walks as if the rain itself owes him something. He keeps walking because stopping would mean remembering.
Agnes’s eyes cut through the grime like glass. She’s…
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Wet light crawls along the edges of rust and chrome. He walks as if the rain itself owes him something. He keeps walking because stopping would mean remembering.
Agnes’s eyes cut through the grime like glass. She’s…