The Distant Promise
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed against the glass of the observation deck, a persistent, gray smear that blurred the horizon of the Pacific Northwest into a watercolor of slate and bruised purple. Elias Thorne sat in the center of the room, his posture rigid, a statue carved from fatigue and old leather. He was a man who had spent twenty years in the service of the state, a...
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