The Distant Threshold
The fog rolled in from the sea. It was thick. It was gray. It tasted of salt and rot. Elias sat on the stone wall. His legs dangled. He was ten. He wore a wool sweater that smelled of woodsmoke. His friend, Arthur, was not there. Arthur was always there. But today, Arthur was gone. The wall was cold. It bit through the wool. Elias did not move. He looked at the water. The water looked back. It...
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