Rain slicked the cobblestones of Rotha’s old quarter, each streetlamp pooling pale gold in puddles. The town had a hum tonight—train whistles in the distance, a bus idling at the depot, the electric buzz of neon signs reflected off wet brick. At the heart of it, Linden Avenue curved like a question mark around the transit yard where the depot’s towers kept their patient watch.
Rain slicked the cobblestones of Rotha’s old quarter, each streetlamp pooling pale gold in puddles. The town had a hum tonight—train whistles in the distance, a bus idling at the depot, the electric buzz of neon signs reflected off wet brick. At the heart of it, Linden Avenue curved like a question mark around the transit yard where the depot’s towers kept their patient watch.