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... everything into a watercolor of gray and silver. Each droplet fell with a quiet insistence, a gentle percussion against the pavement. He had no umbrella. There was no need. He let the rain take him, let it claim him entirely.

It was a deluge, the kind that turned puddles into lakes, the kind that carried ants to their watery graves. The rain soaked through his clothes, his hair, his skin—until it felt as though even his thoughts had become damp. He walked, unhurried, his steps splashing ...

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