The Distant Threshold
The rain had not ceased in three days, a grey curtain that blurred the iron lattices of the windowpane and turned the street outside into a sluggish, muddy ribbon. Thomas Halloway sat in the corner of the office, his hands resting on the mahogany desk, feeling the wood’s cold, unyielding resistance against his palms. It was a small room, suffocating in its dimensions, where the air hung heavy...
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