The rain fell on the ridge. It was cold. It was sharp. It cut through the wool.
Thomas stood still. He looked down. The valley was gray. The mist clung to the ground. It hid the road. It hid the town. It hid everything.
He adjusted his collar. The buttons were tight. They dug into his neck. He ignored them. He looked at his hands. They were bare. The skin was red. The knuckles were swollen. He...
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