The Distant Clue
The frost had crept into the cellar, a white lacework that trapped the air in brittle, silent cages, and I knew before the first shiver reached my shoulders that the season had changed its mind about us. I sat on the overturned crate, my hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since lost its heat, watching the dust motes dance in the single beam of light that pierced the darkness above....
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