The Distant Summer
The rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray veil that blurred the edges of the garden and turned the stone path into a slick mirror. Inside the study, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and beeswax. Elias sat in his high-backed chair, his hands resting on the leather armrests, still as stone. He was a man who had spent forty years cataloging the world, sorting its...
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