The Distant Temple

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2026-08-17 11:45:02 -

The rain did not fall. It hung. It hung in the air like a grey curtain, thick and wet, smelling of wet wool and old stone. I stood on the platform. My coat was soaked. The water ran down my chin. I did not wipe it away. My name is Elias Thorne. I am a clerk. I work in the basement of the city hall. I file papers. I stamp forms. I am small. I am quiet. I have always been quiet. In my pocket, I...

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