The Distant Nightmare
The rain does not fall on the valley of St. Jude’s; it accumulates in the air, a heavy, gray suspension that settles on the stone shoulders of the church and the damp wool of your coat. You are standing in the nave, the wood floor slick with the condensation of centuries, and the silence is not empty but full, a living thing that presses against your eardrums. You are here to find the thief,...
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