Undercurrents of the Fog
The box contained Thomas's things. That's what I called it, the box, though it was really just a cardboard shipping container with the tape peeling at the corners and a water stain on the lid that looked like a face if you squinted hard enough. Thomas Crowly's things: a pocket watch that hadn't worked since El Alamein, three letters he'd never sent, a photograph of a woman I'd never seen and...
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