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Paula Peril — Hidden City (repack)

You cannot carry everything forever, the boy said without moving his lips. Some things are meant to be opened.

She found the city the way you find a bruise: sudden, aching, mapped beneath a skin of ordinary streets. Paula kept her hand in her coat pocket, tracing the thin brass key the size of a postage stamp. The alley signs still used names from another decade; the neon flickered in a dialect she almost remembered. Every doorway promised a story and a cost.

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