The Distant Affair
The rain hit the porch like gravel. David held his ground. His wife, Sarah, stood in the doorway. She was wet. Her hair clung to her neck. She looked small. She looked afraid. “David,” she said. He did not move. His hand rested on the pistol in his belt. Not a trigger. Just a weight. A promise. “Let me in,” she said. Her voice was thin. It broke on the second word. David shook his head. A...
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