The Distant Affair
The bread was stale, a dense, greyish loaf that tasted of damp earth and the slow decay of hope, and Elias Thorne held it in his hands as if it were a relic of a forgotten god, feeling the roughness of the crust against his calloused palms, the texture rough and unforgiving, much like the world that had driven him into this wilderness of pine and shadow. He was a man who had once been known for...
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