The air in the city always tasted faintly of ozone and exhaust, but tonight it carried the sharper tang of distant smoke. You were walking home, the weight of a double shift at the bakery a dull ache in your shoulders. The neon signs of closed shops painted the wet pavement in streaks of garish color. It was late, and the usual crowds had thinned to scattered stragglers and the occasional patrol drone humming overhead.
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