The Distant Affair

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2026-08-17 12:56:13 -

The fog rolled in from the harbor like a living thing, thick and grey and smelling of rot and brine, pressing against the windows of the lighthouse until the glass bowed inward as if begging to break. I stood there, my hand resting on the cold iron railing, watching the light sweep out into the void, that great, relentless eye of the tower spinning in its slow, eternal trance, and I thought...

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