The Distant Joke

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2026-08-18 13:06:05 -

The Distant Joke

The rain had been falling for three days, turning the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, gray mirror that reflected the low, bruised clouds above. You stood on the edge of the pier, the cold dampness soaking through your wool coat, watching the water lap against the pilings with a rhythmic, indifferent thud. It was not the kind of rain that cleansed; it was the kind that corroded. It...

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