The Distant Clue
The object was a key. It hung from a chain of tarnished silver. The chain bit into the neck. The key was heavy. It was cold. It was not a key for a door. It was a key for a lock that did not exist. Or perhaps for a lock that was everywhere. He held it in his palm. The metal was smooth. It burned. Not with heat. With cold. A cold that moved up the wrist. It settled in the elbow. It pooled in the...
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