The Distant Cartograph
The van smelled of damp wool and rust, a scent that had seeped into the upholstery over miles of wet roads. You sat in the passenger seat, your hands folded in your lap, knuckles white from the cold that radiated off the metal frame of the vehicle. Through the rain-streaked windshield, the landscape of the Pacific Northwest blurred into a grey smear of ferns and pine. You were driving your...
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