The Distant Clue
The morning light in the apartment on Waverly Street did not behave as light should, but instead pooled on the floorboards like a stagnant, bruised lake, refusing to reach the windows where Eleanor had left the curtains tied back with fraying twine. She sat at the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees, and watched the dust motes drift through the gray haze that had settled over the...
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