The Distant Wound
The rain in the valley did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain drawn tight against the glass of the office window, blurring the world outside into a smear of mud and dead leaves. Elias Thorne sat at his desk, the plastic chair creaking softly under his weight as he watched a single drop of condensation trace a path down the pane. It was a small, insignificant journey, yet it held his...
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