The Faded Dust
The leather of the satchel had long since lost its sheen, surrendering its structural integrity to the relentless, microscopic abrasion of daily use, the grain of the hide now a topographical map of cracks and dry fissures that mirrored the deepening lines around Elias Thorne’s eyes as he sat in the dim, oil-lit archive of the St. Jude’s Orphanage, the air thick with the scent of decaying paper...
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