The Distant Affair
The fire did not start with a spark or a careless hand, but with a scream, a dry, ragged tear in the fabric of the Tuesday morning that left you standing on the cobbled street of Millhaven, your boots sinking into the mud that had only just begun to thaw, while the sky above turned the color of a bruise that refused to heal. You are Thomas, and you are the one who watches, the one who counts,...
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