The Distant Summer
The vial cracked against the granite curb of the parking lot, spilling its contents in a bright, viscous puddle of amber liquid. It was not blood, nor was it oil, though in the harsh midday sun it caught the light with a deceptive, life-like warmth. Dr. Elias Thorne stood frozen, his hand still raised in the gesture of a man who has just committed a violent act against the air. He was a man of...
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