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Washington, D.C.
John Nash sat on the park bench, the air around him heavy with a sense of impending danger. The city felt distant, swallowed by the darkening sky. The storm was closing in, and Nash could feel the threat, deep in his bones. The kind of pressure that meant death was never far behind.
Thunder rumbled low in the distance, and a flash of lightning lit the horizon, sharp and blinding. Na Read more of this blog post »