The Wistful Incense
The wisteria was dead. That was the first thing Captain Elias Thorne noticed when he stepped off the train, the second was that his hands were shaking, and the third was that the house looked smaller than he remembered, as if it had shrunk in the dark to hide from the world. It was a gray, low-slung Victorian on the edge of a town that smelled of wet wool and stale coal. He had come back for...
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