The Distant Joke
The train smelled of wet wool and old coffee. Elias stood by the window, watching the gray fields of Kentucky blur into a streak of slate and mud. He was a man of few words, a fact that had served him well in the Bureau of Anomalous Regulation, and poorly in every other aspect of his life. His brother, Julian, sat opposite him, picking at the label on his juice box. Julian was young,...
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