The rain over the Thames was not a drizzle. It was a rhythmic, relentless assault that flattened the dark river and turned the London streets into mirrors of black ink. It was the kind of downpour that felt intentional, as if it want
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The rain over the Thames was not a drizzle. It was a rhythmic, relentless assault that flattened the dark river and turned the London streets into mirrors of black ink. It was the kind of downpour that felt intentional, as if it want