The Distant Cartograph
The dream began, as it always did, with the sound of a cartographer’s compass needle trembling against the glass face of its case, a faint, high-pitched whine that seemed to vibrate directly inside the marrow of Thomas’s left knee, a joint that had begun to ache with a dull, persistent throb three days after the news of the ceasefire had arrived in the small, damp town of Oakhaven, a place...
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