The Distant Threshold
The hand is a thing of bone and tendon. It is a tool. You know this. You have always known this. It is the only true currency in the shop of Thomas Bradshaw, the chandler, in the town of Oakhaven. The candles are wax. The tapers are beeswax. But the hand is the source. It is the maker. You look at your right hand. It is thick. The knuckles are swollen. The skin is mapped with scars from hot wax...
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