The Distant Summer
The air in the basement of the old Whitmore estate was thick, stagnant, and smelled faintly of damp earth and the metallic tang of old paper, a scent that had settled into the fibers of the wallpaper and the rotting wood of the floorboards until it became indistinguishable from the house itself, and young Julian, who was only twelve years old and possessed of a mind that moved with the frantic,...
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