The Distant Metropolis
The rain in the village of Oakhaven did not fall so much as it seeped, a persistent, cold dampness that worked its way into the marrow of the stone houses and the bones of the men who lived in them. I have spent the last three years cataloging this seepage, measuring the saturation levels of the earth with a precision that borders on the obsessive. My name is Elias Thorne, and I am the town’s...
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